For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. "What is it?" "Can't you see? Together, down there; you and I!… As my wife! Both of us, never to be lonely again!… Will you marry me, Ruth?" As many a wiser woman had done, Ruth mistook thrilling eagerness for love. I am your husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. “I will tell you something if you like. “But that’s quite different,” replied Anna. ” “Not worth the trouble.
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