“Tut, tut!” he said. She watched the captain tuck the pistol back in his pocket, and perch on the edge of the big desk. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. ” He replied cheerfully. The doctor and another man were by his bedside when they entered the room, and there were writing materials which had evidently been used close at hand. ‘Come, mademoiselle. ” “It was a mistake,” she faltered. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. 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.
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