“What of her? Have you quarrelled with her?” The girl shook her head. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. He—wanted to marry me. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. I’m so glad that Michelle’s invited Mike to dinner without telling me! Please make yourselves at home while I try and scrounge up some food so everyone can have dinner!” She sashayed back into the kitchen. A good deal of the food will be in tins. “I’d give anything,” he remarked, “to see our little Vee happily and comfortably married. F. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished.
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