’ Kimble chewed his lip, but his hostility was visibly lessening. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. Once more cheered by daylight, he hastened forward, and entered the chapel. She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. He grabbed her legs and threw the covers from the bed. The voices went into his ears but left no impression of their import. He may die.
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