She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. It had been very peaceful in the little cave for countless years. "Your tone suggests something marvellous in the fact," replied Ah Cum, ironically. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. She could not see clearly. The twenty pounds burned with avidity. But he had been forewarned by his great-nephew. And it's a maxim of universal application: or, at least, of universal practice. "O lud! what an exquisite box!" cried Edgeworth Bess.
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