" He did not pause to consider how she had learned that he had imagination; he comprehended only the direct challenge. But recently he had asked God to pile it all on him; and God had added this, with a fresh portion for Ruth. "No, no," rejoined Thames; "fly—or I will not answer for your safety. You are always doing something for nothing, and that is why I love you. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue.
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