He had never questioned it, except when he read books; but then, they were only books, fairy stories of a fairer and impossible world.

But now he had seen that world, possible and real, with a flower of a woman called Ruth in the midmost centre of it; and thenceforth he must know bitter tastes, and longings sharp as pain, and hopelessness that tantalized because it fed on hope.
He had debated between the Berkeley Free Library and the Oakland Free Library, and decided upon the latter because Ruth lived in Oakland.

Who could tell ?--a library was a most likely place for her, and he might see her there.

He did not know the way of libraries, and he wandered through endless rows of fiction, till the delicate-featured French-looking girl who seemed in charge, told him that the reference department was upstairs.

He did not know enough to ask the man at the desk, and began his adventures in the philosophy alcove.