But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. I am no use for a clerk, because I do not understand shorthand. She was on the rim of civilization, entering, as Spurlock was on the rim, preparing to make his exit. Ruth could tell the doctor; she could bare many of her innermost thoughts to that kindly man; but there was an inexplicable reserve before this young man whom she still endued with the melancholy charm of Sydney Carton. "I'm sure he won't attempt to prevent me," rejoined Thames. "Impossible!" echoed Wild, with a fearful imprecation.
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