Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. " "As like as life, Sir," observed Austin, peeping over Thornhill's shoulder at the portrait. " "Caught you napping, eh?" rejoined Ireton, with a laugh. She felt the need to get dressed, sensing that his parents would be home soon. It was not for a week or a month. "Well, my dear, I've a proposal to make in regard to this babby of yours, which may, or may not, be agreeable. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster.
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