But, no. Ennison’s acquaintance. Are you satisfied?’ Grudgingly, Jack Kimble took back the coins. But the figure was evidently too intent on peering within the ballroom to pay any attention to what might be occurring outside. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. Then blackness. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. Now, more than ever, it was time to start running. "You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door.
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