Treasure caves to explore! All through these trying days she had recurrently wondered what this strange young man would have to say that Dickens and Hugo had not already said.

That was the true marvel of it.

No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different.

Some had the dignity and the aloofness of a rock in the sea; and others were as the polished pebbles on the sands--one saw the difference of pebble from pebble only by close scrutiny.

Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence.
Ruth was at that stage where the absorption of facts is great, but where the mental digestion is not quite equal to the task.