As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. So, not exactly hopefully but earnestly, she returned to the feet of God. Manning, in an earnest voice, and waved his hand to the alley of mauve and purple. “I might go home, I don’t know. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him. In the next box hangs the rope by which he suffered. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her.
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