It was also cold, and dark, for there had been no time to light the lantern. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. ” Drummond shook his head in melancholy fashion. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. Just because she was sorry for that young fool! "Uh-huh," he repeated, rising and bowing as he passed Ruth's table. ” “How?” “Well—a little clumsily. She began to look for beauty and discover it in unexpected aspects and places. ’ ‘It’s immaterial, in any event,’ Roding put in. She made me over.
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