. Return to him, I say—" "I can't," replied Jack, doggedly. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. Sordid; but that was not Ruth's term for it; she had no precise commentary to offer. But there was a face pressed to the glass. He seemed to be hesitating between two courses of action. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. ‘The wretch said nothing to anyone. She turned a resolute face southward. I am tired, and I want to be alone. Give me the chisel, Blueskin.
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