" The Wastrel laughed. It melted her heart. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. He did not speak for a moment. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. I wish to prevent a repetition of any such errand as I presume you have come here upon this evening. If you had arrived ten minutes later, or if there hadn't been an iron bar in the chimney, that hindered my progress, I should have been beyond your reach. ’ He took a pace forward, seizing the gun with one hand, while the other locked her arm so that he could forcibly wrest the weapon from her. "Ah!" she screamed, seeing the uplifted weapon in Sheppard's hand, "don't hurt Thames—don't, dear Jack! If you want to kill somebody, kill me, not him. “I won’t give you a check though—Yes, I will. 1. ’ The woman shrugged helpless shoulders, looking to her husband. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. "Oh!—to see you thus!" cried Thames, in an agony of affliction.
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