The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. Ruth had lived in a world without caresses. “If I didn’t love you better than myself,” said Capes, “I wouldn’t fence like this with you. ” She looked down on him thoughtfully, and he let his admiration of her free young poise show in his face. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation. Give me your hand. A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. "You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own.
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