“Yes I did. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. . " So Ruth heard about the poets; she became tolerably familiar with the exploits of that engaging ruffian Cellini; she heard of the pathetic deafness of Beethoven; she was thrilled, saddened, exhilarated; and on the evening of the twelfth day she made bold to enter the talk. He was a Canton guide, highly educated, having been graduated from Yale University. “I had a dream in the night,” she said. Almost the last female to bear the name, too,’ muttered the old lady. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. “You, too,” he said abruptly. She had but to choose.
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