\"I’ve never been to any of Lincoln’s dances. She would rend him limb from limb like a fiend if only she could move. He heard the door close; and in a little while he fell into a doze; and there came a dream filled with broken pictures, each one of which the girl dominated. ’ ‘That’s odd. “There ought to be some means of getting at him,” he said. He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. Gently each time Ruth drew down the arms. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it.
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