“I don’t understand. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. I’d ruin the things if I so much as touched one. The third time she escaped she reached the inconsequent barricade of the overturned table. I should have thought my note cleared up everything. "There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. It is not well that a daughter should talk to her father as Ruth talked to hers that day. But I must, they say, and try to make me with the punishments. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge.
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