She had better escape if she can. " 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. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. For a space he rode the whirligig.
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