Confidence in himself would strengthen him. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. 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. Through that she had to go. He's a cutie. These fellows must be right,” he added thoughtfully, “and yet—there’s a mystery somewhere. The dog-fox cannot be far off, since the cub is found. You need give yourself no more concern about Kneebone. The fresh air, which blew in his face, greatly revived him.
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