That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. Gerald began to ease forward, deciding just how he would accost her. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences. When, by slow and toilsome efforts, he had arrived midway, something obstructed his further progress. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness. “I supposed that he took off his hat to you. And afterward her mother and Alice kissed long and clung to each other. It drives one mad at times. "Mr.
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