"It's like her soul was in Heaven already," said Sandy.
"I took her a little picture," went on Ruth; "she loves them so. It was a copy of one of Turner's."
"Turner?" repeated Sandy. "Joseph Mallord William Turner, born in London, 1775. Member of the Royal Academy. Died in 1851."
She looked so amazed at this burst of information that he laughed.
"It's out of the catalogue. I learned what it said about the ones I liked best years ago."
"Where?"
"At the Olympian Exposition."
"I was there," said Ruth; "it was the summer we came home from Europe. Perhaps that was where I saw you. I know I saw you somewhere before you came here."
"Perhaps," said Sandy, skipping a bit of bark across the water.
A band of yellow butterflies on wide wings circled about them, and one, mistaking Ruth's rosy wet fingers for a flower, settled there for a long rest.