“Please stop, cabman,” she ordered. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily. For Ruth was in love, tenderly and beautifully in love; but she did not know how to express it beyond the fetch and carry phase. She parted the curtains to find him standing there. She jumped up at once, caught up a leather clutch containing notebooks, a fat textbook, and a chocolate-and-yellow-covered pamphlet, and leaped neatly from the carriage, only to discover that the train was slowing down and that she had to traverse the full length of the platform past it again as the result of her precipitation. She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. It’s gone.
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