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58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. ” He meditated. That boy—blind as a bat! Why, he hadn't seen the Woman until to-night! From the first chord of the Grieg concerto to the finale of the Chopin ballade, Ruth had sat tensely on the edge of her chair. But there was no sign from her. Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity. Seeing Capes from day to day made a bright eventfulness that hampered her in the course she had resolved to follow. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct.
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