"Your faults were the faults of circumstances. When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. She heard their feet and muffled voices. “MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. She sprang to her feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes. They were actually pissed at me that I quote broke up with you unquote.
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