“Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. ” Pause. Any one very badly moved choked down a few mouthfuls; the symptom of supreme distress was not to be able to touch a bit. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. “Too much sensibility and too cold a heart. I can't run in these heavy fetters. I find it impossible to associate you with—my little friend of the ‘Ambassador’s. He pulled down a chair to her left.
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