Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. He contrasted the lot of women in general with the lot of men, presented men as patient, self-immolating martyrs, and women as the pampered favorites of Nature. The latter walked carelessly towards the hatch, and leaning his back against the place whence the spike had been removed, so as completely to hide it, continued smoking his pipe as coolly as if nothing had happened. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. “Where to?” he asked, as the hansom drove up. ” “I have been through dozens of foster parents, John. His hand rested heavily and cruelly upon Ruth's shoulder. “You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance.
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