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It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. Of course Ruth was not aware that in this same volume there were lyrics known the world over. Too late. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her. Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse. In this room was my ruin begun: in this room it should be ended. She throws a sort of spell over us all. ” Annabel no longer attempted to conceal her emotion.
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