. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. . He had diverged only a little from the truth when he said that his chief interest in life was women. “And even then—” The conversation hung for a thoughtful moment. "Give me till to-morrow," implored she, "and if I can bring myself to part with him, you shall have him without another word. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. "Hoddy, Hoddy!… No, no! This is my father!" warned Ruth. She listened, her suspicions confirmed. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth.
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