That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. If it wasn’t for the fear that after all—but we won’t think of that. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. I don't know anything about you. ’ Even as they watched, a shadow passed across one of the apertures. He might have been a complete innocent, she did not know and did not bother to find out.
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