Would you stand by me—and her?” “My dear Nigel!” she exclaimed. You’ll never even see me again, for that 268 matter. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. ruin you. In vain did the woollendraper offer to set him free if he would restore the stolen article, or give up his associate, to whom it was supposed he might have handed it. Part of her felt like laughing insanely at how badly she had been duped. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side.
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