Pistols and pictures? Now it fair goes agin’ me nature to act rough with a lady, but you’ll come along of me at once. By a sort of instinct. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. She replied softly. This charming episode was repeated three times. For fully five minutes he lay quite motionless. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. The expression pervading the countenance of the one was vulgarity; of the other, that which is rarely found, except in persons of high birth.
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