He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared, would have met with a fair reception. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. "Do you not know me, father?" said the young man, advancing towards him, and warmly grasping his hand. She felt his tongue press into her mouth.
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