"Thames Darrell only waits my mandate to follow him. ‘Can you not open it?’ she cried. "I've made no distinction between you, hitherto," answered Wood; "nor shall I do so, unless I'm compelled. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. You might even tire of me by then, you know. ‘Do you need an excuse?’ ‘Oh, you know what doctors are. I have been the vicomte’s secretary, remember. Look here. I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart.
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