For Ruth was in love, tenderly and beautifully in love; but she did not know how to express it beyond the fetch and carry phase. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. Had he not said so? Not that she wished him to marry her. " "Blessings upon him!" cried Lady Trafford, fervently. Wood!" "Leave go!" thundered Blueskin—"leave go—you'd better!"—and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched for his knife. Not enough of them to make a difference.
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