There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. "Why it is astonishing, certainly," remarked Kneebone, "to find any woman constant—especially to a girlish attachment; but such is the case. She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. The fever came. It is true that I do not love Ruth; but I swear to you, before the God of my fathers, that she shall never know it!" "I'll be getting along. “A glass slipped from the table,” he explained.
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