"Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. And think things out. Presently he became filled with astonishment over the singular fact that Ruth was eluding him in fancy as well as in reality. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. ‘Of course she don’t understand,’ snapped Charvill irascibly. Then instinct took over. One cannot successfully argue with a drunken man. “My word holds,” she said. A lovely, fetching girl. Are you now satisfied?" "No," interposed Wood, furiously, "I shall never be satisfied till I see you hanged on the highest gibbet at Tyburn. He drew an awed breath.
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