“May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. Wood, would preclude the possibility of his remaining with his new friends as long as his inclinations prompted. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. I should have thought my note cleared up everything. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Ruth's arm trembled and her step faltered, but he was too far away in thought to be observant. He says only that he must tie up all the loose ends.
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