If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. Jack had no sooner taken his place in the cart, than he was followed by the ordinary, who seated himself beside him, and, opening the book of prayer, began to read aloud. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. How to hold her, how to keep her at his side; this was the problem with which he struggled. There was no rush. Miss Klegg and the youngest girl made a vigorous attack on Miss Garvice, who had said she thought women lost something infinitely precious by mingling in the conflicts of life. She could feel her face turning beet red. CHAPTER XIII.
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