. “How old are you?\" He looked at her engagingly. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. "Let me go," cried Winifred. ” “You would marry a divorcée?” she asked. “So how about this Friday?” He asked. The life with which he had endued these sheets of paper began to beckon imperiously. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. She writhed in ecstasy as she wrapped her legs around his waist, then raised her knees to his shoulders. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. Even though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance that something was wrong.
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