"And so you've given up all hope of escaping, eh, Jack?" remarked Hogarth. She spotted her opportunity. There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. I am far too much the gentleman. You have been burning paper, I see. It was red and chapped. Women and men had always flocked to him, covetous of his knowledge, his riches, and if all else failed, his carnal expertise.
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