There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice. "Take my life, if you're so disposed. You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. Captain Roding either did not know, or did not remember that she had it. "Will he live?" asked Ruth. “You’re not a man for me—not one of a sex, I mean. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. Solomon Smith, chapmen, (or what in modern vulgar parlance would be termed bagmen) travelling to procure orders for the house of an eminent cloth manufacturer in Manchester.
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