Straight she sped toward me.
And as she ran I recognized her.
Ruth Ventnor! The flying figure reached me, threw soft arms around my neck, was weeping in relieved gladness on my shoulder.
"Ruth!" I cried.

"What on earth are YOU doing here ?" "Walter!" she sobbed.

"Walter Goodwin--Oh, thank God! Thank God!" She drew herself from my arms, catching her breath; laughed shakily.
I took swift stock of her.

Save for fear upon her, she was the same Ruth I had known three years before; wide, deep blue eyes that were now all seriousness, now sparkling wells of mischief; petite, rounded and tender; the fairest skin; an impudent little nose; shining clusters of intractable curls; all human, sparkling and sweet.
Drake coughed, insinuatingly.

I introduced him.
"I--I watched you struggling through that dreadful pit." She shuddered.
"I could not see who you were, did not know whether friend or enemy--but oh, my heart almost died in pity for you, Walter," she breathed.