But the first one was brought home, and it was the beginning of the end. You can, too, if you wish. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. "There'll be a louder echo here presently," thought Jonathan. “Heavens, look at the time!” she exclaimed. To be no longer with Martha was strange. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt.
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