"Right!—right!" cried Jack, striking his fettered hands against his breast. “Look here! Aren’t you going a little too far? This—this is degradation—making a fuss with sleeves. ‘Hang it all, Mrs Sindlesham is right! You are two of a kind. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. It was the first—and the last! At this juncture, the handle of the door was tried, and the voice of Mr. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light. But take a drop of wine," urged he, filling a drinking-horn and presenting it to her; "it's choice canary, and'll do you good. " "That is what I wanted to know," said Ruth gravely. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. She had made her way since then a little further into the heart of life.
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