Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. Besides, you cannot tell where it will end. He noted the strong white teeth as they snipped the thread. "I shall breathe more freely dere. Come close to me, and let me hold your hand, dear. " And she flung herself between them. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. Nervously he pulled alongside the dilapidated oncewhite farmhouse. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances.
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