” “It’s impossible. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. He was snoring stupidly. An inarticulate instinct which now found expression. The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. Suffer me to precede you. Love and companionship. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. Then, mysteriously, he no longer smelled or tasted it.
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