He then mounted the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side, rode off. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. Milice,’ Gerald translated. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love.
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