But all the while this new spirit was at work on its own business in the deeps of him. His intellect, a mere cockle-shell afloat on an Ocean of Mind, dealt with the superficial mechanism of life. _He_ was elsewhere. For the first time Ernie became aware of a Double Life going on within him, of Two Minds, related, yet apart, each pursuing its own ends. He entered the room in the basement where the men cleaned the knives, blacked the boots and ate their hurried meals. It was cool, almost cavernous. He was amazed that he had never before seen beauty in this bleak room, the beauty of the woods for which he longed. He sat down and was glad. About him were men of all nationalities, some in aprons, some in their shirt-sleeves, some snatching a desultory snack, chattering or silent. Ernie, aware of them, yet deep in himself, was conscious of two impressions: These men were monkeys--and knew it; and they were Sons of God--and as yet unconscious of it. One of the men, a sallow Austrian with a stringy moustache, who went by the name of Don John among his mates, put down the _Arbeiter Zeitung_ which he had been reading, watched Ernie awhile sardonically, and then made a jeering remark to a neighbour, who replied. Ernie caught the words "Third Floor." Instantly he emerged from his deeps, his intellect alert, paramount, and defensive. Don John continued caressingly, his cheek bulging with cheese, and a clasp-knife in his hand. "Pluddy mug!" he jeered. "Thinks they're for him. They're for de toffs on de top--not for _you_! You're unter-tog. Nozzing for unter-tog in this world only de crumbs that _don't_ fall from de rich man's table. De girls are for de Chairman Jews. They can buy em. Can you?--Nice English girls are cheap." CHAPTER XXXI THE RIDE ON THE BUS The Thursday following his great experience, Ernie went as usual to the Redoubt which was the terminus of the bus that ran to Billing's Corner. He was early; and there was as yet only one passenger on the roof, a young woman simply dressed in black, her bare throat girt about with yellow amber, and wearing a felt hat of terra-cotta colour. She was sitting on the front seat. The large and graceful indolence of her pose gave him pause. He stayed on the last step, regarding her. Then she turned her face sea-wards and he saw her profile. Another moment and he stood above her. "Ruth," he said. She looked up at him. "O, it's you, Ernie!" she answered quite simply, and without a thought of coquetry. His heart moved within him. "That's a little better!" he muttered, and proceeded to sit down beside her. She made room for him, friendly and entirely unconscious. They began to talk, and once she glanced at him from under her hat with tranquil eyes that seemed to pour their soft light into his. He held them with his own. The two streams met and mingled in mysterious communion that thrilled him till he trembled faintly. He was the first to turn away.