The stranger turned his head at the sound. " "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. I am not sure, but I believe that he has just thought of something. I’d take it— forgive me if I seem a little urgent—as a sort of proof of friendliness. "Ruth?" Silence for a moment. For yonder went the loneliest man in all God's unhappy world. But we must not anticipate the course of events. The vast heap of rubbish on the floor had been so materially increased by the bricks and plaster thrown down in his attack upon the wall of the Red Room, that it was with some difficulty he could find the blanket which was almost buried beneath the pile.
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