She had also discovered the names of Grimm and Andersen; but at that time she had not been able to visualize "the pale slender things with gossamer wings"—fairies. “Please call me Carol. " So Ruth heard about the poets; she became tolerably familiar with the exploits of that engaging ruffian Cellini; she heard of the pathetic deafness of Beethoven; she was thrilled, saddened, exhilarated; and on the evening of the twelfth day she made bold to enter the talk. It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny.
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