It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. The Becks were the best foster family that she had ever had. This extraordinary child had opened up an old channel through which it was no longer safe to cruise. Recollect that. Poor little one. Just because she was sorry for that young fool! "Uh-huh," he repeated, rising and bowing as he passed Ruth's table. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. Lucy’s bright tones pursued her. Her whole face stiffened with suppressed anger. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. ’ The lady opened her eyes very wide indeed. But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling.
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