" "What has he done?" "He has just naturally peeved his Uncle Sam. ’ ‘And was not she put out?’ demanded Miss Froxfield with a tinkling laugh. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. “I should think YOU could do all sorts of things. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. They struck her as cold and indifferent. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. Everything was very neat; it had evidently been straightened up and kept for her. His last actions were futile. Oh! and love—love! We’ve had so splendid a time, and fought our fight and won.
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