He said that for him beauty justified life, that he could not imagine a good action that was not a beautiful one nor any beautiful thing that could be altogether bad. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. . His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. His eyes were bright with the hunt. “I wish this hadn’t turned up to-day of all days. "Holloa—what's that?" cried Austin, starting up. She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. " "That's but a short distance from here, sir.
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