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She reflected before answering. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. The knife is at my breast. CHAPTER VI Sidney Carton, thought Ruth, in pursuit of a sing-song girl! The idea was so incongruous that a cold little smile parted her lips. He would repeat them innumerable times, and patiently Ruth would repeat her answers. She listened, listened intently for several minutes. It might be upset. "Why do you ask?" rejoined the other haughtily. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words.
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