"My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. “You may call anytime. She was instinctively aware of him as she had been of Julian. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. Youth! You denied me even that," said Ruth, her glance now flashing to her father. He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. Since the discovery of them, she had been madly eager to read these typewritten tales.
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