Stanley, and went into his study. Perhaps an hour later he would begin again. Everything. . "By George!" he exclaimed. I'll put you aboard The Tigress to-morrow after sundown. For your information, it was paradise there. His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. For all that, it is folly. The crash was tremendous. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. "My limbs feel so light, now that my irons are removed," he observed with a smile, "that I am half inclined to dance.
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