And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. There was no way to warn her of his presence without startling her. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. The two great hotels on their right were still ablaze with lights. She moaned as she touched him. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment.
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