"You read it, Ruth. ” “I am afraid,” she murmured, “that it would be difficult. . \" She said, bashful. Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken cheeks. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Ask mercy of the Lord for the salvation of your own soul, through the merits of the death and passion of Jesus Christ, who now sits at the right hand of God, to make intercession for you, if you penitently return to him. Light flooded the place.
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