“And that only brings me up to about sixty-five! “A glittering wilderness of time That to the sunset reaches No keel as yet its waves has ploughed Or gritted on its beaches. You would suffer the torments of the damned for what you had done. ” Her heart had warmed toward him. ’ The lashes fluttered demurely. “How will you live?” she appealed. You were content, and I came to thrive on your happiness. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. " "Rely on me," rejoined Kneebone.
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