After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall. That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. Then a bit of colour flowed into his sunken white cheeks. Lucy followed. She ran to the lamp and extinguished it. " "A white wall is a fool's paper, Jack,—remember that," rejoined Wood.
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