"He's not to blame," said Jack, rising. “I do,” he answered. " This simple admission disarmed McClintock. Wood started to his feet. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. ’ ‘Don’t you believe it. That is why I called myself Anna. During this colloquy, Jack had contrived unobserved to put on the hood and cloak, and being about the size of the rightful owner, presented a very tolerable resemblance to her.
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