That Ruth should thus reveal such a cloudiness of spiritual vision, such an inability to distinguish between moral values, such a ready acceptance of Gretzinger's vicious philosophy, was the final drop in his bitter cup this day.
"It's not a question of either wood or concrete just at present," he said, rising.

"It's whether I'm to have a project at all.

I'll not go with you, Ruth, to your friends; I must think over what I'm to do and say at Santa Fe to-morrow." As he rode thither with Carrigan that night it seemed as if he now was at grapple with forces, invisible, powerful, malevolent, that strove to dispossess him of everything that was dear.

His project! What means, what help, what law was there of which he could make use to ward off this deadly assault on it?
And Ruth! How should he save her--save her from herself, clear the mist from her eyes, arouse her drowsing soul?
All that he had aimed at and all that he had striven for hung on finding answers to those questions..