Wood; "to be sure you are! I wonder how you dare show your face in this house, hussy!" "I thought you sent for me, Ma'am," replied the widow, humbly. "What is this!" cried Sir Rowland. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. For she needed him. " "Well, if they send you to prison, I'll be outside when they let you go. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. " "That is what I wanted to know," said Ruth gravely. ” He left at once, immensely relieved, yet scarcely satisfied with himself as regarded his share of the interview with this young woman.
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