She spoke slowly. Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. ‘That—that—why do you speak of him?’ ‘Because I feel you ought to know,’ Gerald said calmly, but rising and watching her closely, ‘that all your trouble may be in vain. ” He appeared to be paralyzed by abstruse acoustic calculations.
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