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Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery. End of Project Gutenberg's Anna the Adventuress, by E. When I've escorted you proud fool to his new quarters, I'll proceed to the Mint and look after Jack Sheppard. \" \"Good night, Mom.
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