’ Gerald smiled. “Every one raves about her,” Lady Angela continued. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. She winked at him as he shut the door. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. "Sir Rowland must be gone. ‘I cannot possibly shoot a lady, you know. What a mercy that the blow aimed at her by the ruffian, Wild, though it brought her to the brink of the grave, should have restored her to reason! Ah! she stirs. Don't strip me quite. " And the great thief-taker indulged himself in a chuckle at the effect produced by this announcement.
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