"Your wife?" "His lawful wife," said Ruth, with fine dignity. " The doctor hesitated, puffing his tobacco hastily. She would have just to keep the fifteen pounds until she could make it twenty. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON. I thought if you were living, and not captured, I should find you here,—and I was right. ‘We will converse in your own tongue,’ he said in French as he led her away. It was just then that she came face to face with Nigel Ennison. Hadn’t the stomach to admit the truth, had he? I’ll lay any money he labelled you with some foul French name as well.
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