"Can't!" repeated his mother. " "A white wall is a fool's paper, Jack,—remember that," rejoined Wood. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. But a biddable girl. The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. It was most amusing. "Don't leave him, if you're at all fearful, my dear," replied Wood, receiving the little burthen with a laugh. It was obvious that he had waited for her. We have to hang about in the interval. He looked melancholy enough, it is true. “I am the most foolish of men. Think—think of that engagement!” Their talk had come to eloquent silences that contradicted all he had to say. "The Wastrel seemed to take it all right. There are so many things I want to tell you, and they stand on such different levels, that the effect is necessarily confusing and discordant, and I find myself doubting if I am really giving you the thread of emotion that should run through all this letter. From where had he come, and why? An author! To her he would be no less interesting because he was unsuccessful.
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