Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. Clergymen were human. If he had nothing to tell her, she had nothing to ask. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. CHAPTER XXII. “And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man.
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