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He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. Also he is ugly. I can't help looking at you frequently. " So Ruth heard about the poets; she became tolerably familiar with the exploits of that engaging ruffian Cellini; she heard of the pathetic deafness of Beethoven; she was thrilled, saddened, exhilarated; and on the evening of the twelfth day she made bold to enter the talk. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. To-night all London believes that he was your husband. No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him. Do you know, Ann Veronica, it is all a lie about your birth certificate; a forgery—and fooling at that. "A doctor at once!" cried Ruth excitedly. “I should kill you. " Amazed at the boy's assurance, Wood left off boxing his ears for a moment, and, looking at him steadfastly, said in a grave tone, "Jack, Jack, you'll come to be hanged!" "Better be hanged than hen-pecked," retorted the lad with a malicious grin.
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