Assessing him as harmless, she had remained friendly, albeit aloof. ’ With an air of real interest, he asked, ‘I suppose you did not dig a tunnel or fly in by balloon?’ The lady gazed at him blankly. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. It is a matter of degree. I worshipped women long before I found any woman I might ever hope to worship.
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