"Here," repeated her brother. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. She did not have to investigate that his door was locked. " "But, my love," still remonstrated Wood, "you know I'm going to look after the boys——" "After Mrs. "Poor thing!" muttered he, as the widow departed on her errand, "she's seen better days and better circumstances than she'll ever see again, I'm sure. And now she was discovering that even Nature was something of a liar, with her mirages and her horizons. “I do not blame him.
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