Suddenly the thought of Garry and what he had been, in the days of his brilliancy, and of what he had done to crush the lives about him came to her.  Could she not find some excuse for him, something which she might use as her own silent defence of him in the years that were to come?

“Do you think Garry was out of his mind, Jack?  He’s been so depressed lately?” she asked, all her sympathy in her voice.

“No, my blessed, I don’t think so.  Everybody is more or less insane who succumbs to a crisis.  Garry believed absolutely in himself and his luck, and when the cards went against him he collapsed.  And yet he was no more a criminal at heart than I am.  But that is all over now.  He has his punishment, poor boy, and it is awful when you think of it.  How he could bring himself to prove false to his trust is the worst thing about it.  This is a queer world, my darling, in which we live.  I never knew much about it until lately.  It is not so at home, or was not when I was a boy—­ but here you can take away a man’s character, rob him of his home, corrupt his children.  You can break your wife’s heart, be cruel, revengeful; you can lie and be tricky, and no law can touch you—­ in fact, you are still a respectable citizen.  But if you take a dollar-bill out of another man’s cash drawer, you are sent to jail and branded as a thief.  And it is right—­looked at from one standpoint—­the protection of society.  It is the absence of all mercy in the enforcement of the law that angers me.”

Ruth moved her head and nestled the closer.  How had she lived all the years of her life, she thought to herself, without this shoulder to lean on and this hand to guide her?  She made no answer.  She had never thought about these things in that way before, but she would now.  It was so restful and so blissful just to have him lead her, he who was so strong and self-reliant, and whose vision was so clear, and who never dwelt upon the little issues.  And it was such a relief to reach up her arms and kiss him and say, “Yes, blessed,” and to feel herself safe in his hands.  She had never been able to do that with her father.  He had always leaned on her when schemes of economies were to be thought out, or details of their daily lives planned.  All this was changed now.  She had found Jack’s heart wide open and had slipped inside, his strong will henceforth to be hers.

Still cuddling close, her head on his shoulder, her heart going out to him as she thought of the next morning and the task before him, she talked of their coming move to the mountains, and of the log-cabin for which Jack had already given orders; of the approaching autumn and winter and what they would make of it, and of dear daddy’s plans and profits, and of how long they must wait before a larger log-cabin—­one big enough for two—­would be theirs for life—­any and every topic which she thought would divert his mind—­but Garry’s ghost would not down.

“And what are you going to do first, my darling?” she asked at last, finding that Jack answered only in monosyllables or remained silent altogether.