It must be somewhere hereabouts. You'll find me at supper. " Then he looked at Ruth. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch. He seemed to know a great deal about life. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. "It's the ordinary's signature, undoubtedly," replied Jack. It would have been very well if she had been some common creature who might have been bought off. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven.
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