I’ve got imagination. Let your father—if he chooses, leave all his wealth to his adopted son. “I will put the question,” Drummond said gravely. ” She was silent for a time, with her nose on the pillow, and that brought her to: “What’s the good of pretending? “I love him,” she said aloud to the dim forms of her room, and repeated it, and went on to imagine herself doing acts of tragically dog-like devotion to the biologist, who, for the purposes of the drama, remained entirely unconscious of and indifferent to her proceedings. “Mary!” He whispered loudly. "What's that?" ejaculated the ruffian, glancing uneasily towards the window. Anna raised her eyes. This she would not endure. "Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression.
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