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And they admired Kent sedulously from the windows. The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. The unfortunate carpenter struggled violently, but ineffectually. ‘What is this fate?’ ‘Un mariage of no distinction. There’s always friction, conflict, unwilling concessions. Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. It is no more a murder, but a duel, you understand. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. Certain reserves went down on both sides. No man knew whence she had come nor why. “I will tell you when to stop. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly.
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