“Very well,” said Manning. The entrance of the house 85 was grand, and upon entering she was immediately greeted by John’s mother, a tall, thin woman quite a few years older than Cathy Beck. “Your father is dead too, I believe,” he continued, “and your mother. ‘At last,’ he cried, ‘I have found you!’ He would listen to nothing. What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. Aren’t I asking—asking plainly now?. Still —there you are!” He paused. “Another young woman, I suppose,” he said, “who knows better than her Maker about her place in the world. Hill,” she said graciously.
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