"Has no man ever kissed you?" "No. " "Won't you take me?" "No; you must await my return here. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. "What is your name?" "Ruth. But luncheon and dinners you will sit at my table. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. The bridge was open. Wood. The thought allured him, and therein lay the danger. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought.
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