"There's a young woman. ‘The place was full of barbers and military men. There was a concerted gasp of shock from both the black-garbed lad and the coachman. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. ’ ‘Get rid of the wench,’ Roding said brutally. It might prove rewarding. He was caked with dried muck. But the survey was satisfactory, and she found herself presently in Room No. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. He was tall and straight, and his expression was good. A dreamy sense of content crept over him. ‘Gérard is not mad, only of a disposition entirely interfering. ” “Sir John is an ass!” he declared.
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