" "Look at it, then," said Wild, giving him the portfolio. “Yes, I remember you now. He went in there, and he was in there for a good half hour. Particularly when it was obvious the fellow was one of these pitiful wretches weak enough to allow themselves to be ousted from their inheritances and thus obliged to come seeking succour of their neighbours. Youth! You denied me even that," said Ruth, her glance now flashing to her father. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. CHAPTER XIV Ruth lost the point entirely.
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