She would then partially recall the items that she had heard about him, presenting each at the angle that was the most likely to inflict pain. "Hands off!" she exclaimed, "or you'll repent it. I want to be a human being; I want to learn about things and know about things, and not to be protected as something too precious for life, cooped up in one narrow little corner. I believe—I believe that I must risk it. She just sat and told me that was her arrangement. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. He renewed his supplications to Sharples, but with no better success than heretofore; and the greater part of the night was passed by him and the poor widow, whose anxiety, if possible, exceeded his own, in the most miserable state imaginable. Once she heard him mutter, and she leaned down.
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