” “She does it magnificently,” he declared. He drew an awed breath. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. "I shall do no such thing. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love.
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