Wood scarcely knew where he was. Then Mr. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. He noticed the two chairs close together. Sheppard, whose maternal fears drew her in another direction, hurried off to the Mint. Will you let me go out of this room?” “No,” cried Ramage; “hear me out! I’ll have that satisfaction, anyhow. Only promise me this.
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