" The Wastrel laughed. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. “Nice sleeve,” she said, and came to his hand and kissed it. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead. But it is all over now, and presently there will be some one else. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. But there was no sign from her.
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