"He will live," answered Ruth. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. His hair flew out from the sides of his head like black bats from a belfry, it was unruly and long. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover.
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