He climbed the five flights of stone stairs, still buoyant and light-hearted.

Glancing into his own room, he found it empty, then crossed at once the passageway and knocked at Ruth's door.

She was lying back in her chair, with her back toward the window.
"Why, Ruth," he exclaimed, "how dare you desert your post!" He felt at once that there was something strange in her reception of him.

She stopped him as he came across the room, holding out both her hands.

Her wan face was strained as she gazed and gazed.
Something of the beautiful softness of her features had passed for the moment.