Wait a little; rest. ] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. "Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat. His eyes were set too close together. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. I thought if you were living, and not captured, I should find you here,—and I was right. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. At one time, she determined to go to Wych Street, and ask Mr. Now, he had achieved them, and felt assured of success. It’s too valiant, Miss Stanley, too valiant altogether!” Ann Veronica meditated. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. The sing-song girl, seeing Ruth, extended her hands and began to chatter rapidly.
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