" "To-morrow will be too late," said Sheppard, moodily. Her father was right: Ruth must never know. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. "Read the first chapter of Job"; beyond that, nothing. She helped him take it off. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. Only of course I must begin something else at once. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent.
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