She fought him at first, screaming at him, but he did not relent. . I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. She knew now that he never would. And I do not know you. ’ She shrugged. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing. She veiled her emotion by taking off his overcoat. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city at night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!' … It kind of terrifies me," said Ruth, looking up, first at the face of her husband, then at McClintock's.
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