Ruth did not reply, but stared past the doctor, her eyes misty. For fifteen years!—so long as I can remember! All I wanted was a little love, a caress now and then. I want him immediately, so you can send Frith with my phaeton if you like. And to think that man got it all out of the poorest little love-story for a respectable titled lady! Have you read of it?” “Never. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. Eight per cent. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman.
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