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"To-morrow night!" said Spurlock, in a wondering whisper. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. What’s that?” They both stood listening. “I don’t love him,” said Ann Veronica, getting a gleam. It's my way when I'm ruffled. “Uh, I think I might, Shari. If hopeless love for her made me a robber, it has also saved me many a crime.
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