‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. "You didn't spend it?" "I never intended to spend it—any more than I really intended to steal it. ” She looked at him; his face, downcast and in profile, was handsome and strong. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. The hard work will be his, until we yank this young fellow back from the brink. Emile looked at her, then down, and clearly caught the bright gleam on the floor.
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