Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. She was as pale as death, but she seemed to have lost the power of movement. A faint gleam of returning colour gave her at once a more natural appearance. Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant. Let's have a look at the kinchen that ought to have been throttled," added he, snatching the child from Wood.
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