Rage flooded her at his intent, but she controlled it. “But I am sorry,” she exclaimed. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. Though encumbered by his irons, his step was firm, and his demeanour dignified. "Oh! you men! you men! Once get a thing into your head, and nothing will beat it out. I don’t care what divides us. Is there anything you want?" She laid her hand on his forehead, and found it without fever. Ruth was at that stage where the absorption of facts is great, but where the mental digestion is not quite equal to the task. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud.
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