Why should I?” “At last,” he murmured, “at last I have found you. Sebastian’s land holdings were enormous, reaching across the Alps. She felt sickeningly empty. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. That boy—blind as a bat! Why, he hadn't seen the Woman until to-night! From the first chord of the Grieg concerto to the finale of the Chopin ballade, Ruth had sat tensely on the edge of her chair. It was impossible. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations.
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