The doctor expected her to seize upon the subtle inference that there was something furtive, even criminal, in the manner the patient set this obligation upon humanity at large, to look after him in the event of his death. She would meet him upon this ground: he should never be given the slightest hint that she was unhappy. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears. "My old coco is disintegrating.
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