CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. That he should pay forty pounds to help this girl who preferred another man was no less in his eyes than a fraud and mockery that made her denial a maddening and outrageous disgrace to him. Both, however, having safely landed, they cautiously crossed the room, and passed down the first flight of steps in silence. You might have spared yourself many useless journeys and disappointments, and us a good deal of anxiety. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. " "Ja—ja," returned the Hollander.
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