Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. ” She shifted again. Ruth had lived in a world without caresses. They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing. But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. The arrival of the cart at the end of Field Lane, appeared the signal for an attempt at rescue. Besides these there was a warm gooseberry-tart, and a cold pigeon pie—the latter capacious enough, even allowing for its due complement of steak, to contain the whole produce of a dovecot; a couple of lobsters and the best part of a salmon swimming in a sea of vinegar, and shaded by a forest of fennel.
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