To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. "But this need give you no uneasiness," pursued Jonathan; "Mrs. Having drunk as much as he thought prudent, and thanked his unknown friend for his attention, Jack again lay down on the straw, and indulged himself with another nap, intending to get up as soon as it was perfectly dark. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise. His face changed and she saw, with a stab at her heart, the dawning of irritation in his eyes. Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together.
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