Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse. "Stay!" cried Wood, "this is a most perplexing business—if you really are privy to the affair——" "We'll talk of it to-morrow, Sir," returned Jackson, cutting him short. Wood, who were, furthermore, engaged in a little conjugal tête-à-tête of their own. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. But probably not the truth. Coarse as were the ruffian's notions of feminine beauty, he could not be insensible to the surpassing loveliness of the fair creature, who had thus solicited his attention. ’ Ignoring this, the major slipped his hands about her waist and lifted her to her feet. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision.
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