’ ‘Yes,’ she agreed, but her manner was a degree less warm. Some man! And to conclude it all was the figure of her father in the doorway, giving her a last chance, his hat in one hand, his umbrella in the other, shaken at her to emphasize his point. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. She repeated this breathlessly. A fever of shame ran through her being. But this made the chase all the more exciting. 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. . ***** October. But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you. ’ ‘The tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned.
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