The carpenter did not hesitate a moment. I love you—with all my heart and soul. She did not have the power of men. No matter what they do, always someone to bolster them up, to lend them money, and to coddle them. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. Wood the carpenter. “DON’T!” she said, and wrenched her wrist from his retaining hand.
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