Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. She said as much to him. He has given orders that no one is to disturb him. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. After a while, he raised his eyes; and, if their glance could have been witnessed at the moment, it could not have been easily forgotten. "Not a single whooper-upter! Nothing but torment and remorse … and Ruth! Children, put your arms around me.
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