Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. ’ To her astonishment, Gosse’s servile attitude vanished abruptly. "Your audacity passes belief," cried the latter, as soon as his surprise would allow him utterance. You owe what I have done for you, to him, not to me. His conscience, however, was entirely another affair. I'm neither an infidel nor an agnostic, so I'll content myself by saying that the hand of God is in this somewhere. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. "Stop a minute," cried Jack, detaining his mistresses. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait.
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