Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time. We are the species, and maternity is our game; that’s all right, but nobody wants that admitted for fear we should all catch fire, and set about fulfilling the purpose of our beings without waiting for further explanations. It was Sebastian’s fault for slapping her face and letting the baby out. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged. She recalled how she had stretched out her arms toward the magic blue horizon. The priest normally assigned the duty in the Iovelli family had fled days before from the chapel.
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