The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. The jolly part of it was that for the first time in her life so far as London was concerned, she was not going anywhere in particular; for the first time in her life it seemed to her she was taking London in. Everything in the world had changed for her. I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. “It makes me feel,” he said, “that nothing is impossible—to have you here beside me. In fine, to marry Ruth (if she would consent) as a punishment for what he had done! To whip his soul so long as he lived, but to let his body go free! To provide for her, to work and dream for her, to be tender and thoughtful and loyal, to shelter and guard her, to become accountable to God for her future. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. She went down, feeling rather than seeing the way.
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