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Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. Each morning his inquiry was properly answered: the patient was steadily improving, but none could say when he would be strong enough to proceed upon his journey. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. ‘And what is it you’re to rescue her from, I should like to know. There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt. I——” The door was thrown open. One day it was gone. Then she goes to a dramatic agent. She felt herself shaking again.

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