There was a lapse of time, an interval of blackness; then he found his hand in hers and she was leading him at a run up the side of the mountain. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. I’m sorry. Remember what the conjuror said. "If you'll write them, I'll illustrate them," observed Hogarth. And he liked her. Eventually this comradeship (slightly resented by Rollo) reached a point where he could call out from the study: "Hey, Ruth!—come and tell me what you think of this.
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