" At luncheon, preoccupied in thought, Spurlock did not notice the pallor on Ruth's cheeks or the hunted look in her eyes. ” He looked at her gravely. ‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. Her voice shook, her eyes were very soft and melting. ‘I do not know of whom you speak. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. She pointed suddenly at the portrait. Come back with me to-night. She could feel her face turning beet red. “By God!” said Ann Veronica for the first time in her life. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. He told her something about music, the great world outside.
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