She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. She smiled and started for the stairs without reply. Gay. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town. She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially. Still, his robust frame enabled him to hold out. "Is it you?" "It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain.
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