Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. ‘Well, water under the bridge is that, miss. If you'd read your husband's dying speech, you'd know that he laid his death at Jonathan's door,—and with reason too, as I can testify. Then she examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by her side. " "Who cares if we do?" retorted Sheppard, with a look of defiance. EPOCH THE SECOND.
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