"You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. I want to leave Paris to-day—this very day. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. She let go of him and stood up, straightening herself. " Here she began to blubber loudly for sympathy. She said as much to him. But it wasn’t the harassment that bothered her. The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank.
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