"The Wastrel seemed to take it all right. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. Earles threw down his pen with a little exclamation. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. He did not come out of his chloroform coma and sailed weakly to his death. Perhaps, she may tell me whose picture this is. For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. . “Compromise—and kindness. My heart would speak if it could, for it is very full.
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