“Go it, miss!” cried one. Taking his way along East Smithfield, mounting Little Tower-hill, and threading the Minories and Hounsditch, he arrived without accident or molestation, at Moorfields. Ruth met him in the hall as he was following his family into the dining room. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. “Then some of your family history is known to me. . If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. Guiltily, she felt very little for him, and yet she wondered what he would be like.
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