He wondered if, after all, McClintock wasn't nearest the truth, that Ruth was one of those unfortunate yet innocent women who make havoc with the hearts of men. I want to be whatever I can to you. Love, obliterated, annihilated; out of his heart and out of his Bible. A few days ago I saw him leave your house. ” “How?” He asked. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. ” “You like me?” “Yes. She told you —the truth. This fruit was McClintock's particular pride. And now, a fair exchange, Sir. ‘You escape from your own convent, at great personal danger.
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