There had been fusses and scenes dimly apprehended through half-open doors. Hers were less noble, yet stately. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. In other respects, they were equally indecorous and offensive. “I’m so glad you’re here, Peter,” she said. They went to the Zoological Gardens together one Saturday to see for themselves a point of morphological interest about the toucan’s bill—that friendly and entertaining bird—and they spent the rest of the afternoon walking about and elaborating in general terms this theme and the superiority of intellectual fellowship to all merely passionate relationships. “If I am to turn you into a vampire, she cannot know.
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