CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT Part 1 Spring had held back that year until the dawn of May, and then spring and summer came with a rush together. That boy—blind as a bat! Why, he hadn't seen the Woman until to-night! From the first chord of the Grieg concerto to the finale of the Chopin ballade, Ruth had sat tensely on the edge of her chair. But never mind that," said McClintock grinning as he drew the dish of bread-fruit toward him. Here was the corner-stone of a capital story; but he knew that Howard Spurlock would never write it.
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