A door, it may be remembered, opened from Wild's dwelling into this yard. She was going through with that, anyhow. The occasion is worth a dash of the grape, lad. She had agonized over it for weeks. ‘I must. I might as well try to build a ladder to heaven. That day Gerald had brought her to this excessively careful house, where she had felt very much alone and very unlike herself. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. Righting, however, instantly afterwards, she scudded with the greatest rapidity over the boiling waves, to whose mercy she was now entirely abandoned. Next moment, she had shut the bookshelf panel upon him. She elected to go to prison. Just now the waterchestnuts…. Here she would find candy awaiting her, bits of ribbon, books. But the love of life prevailed over his fears.
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