"You'll not be offended, I hope," returned Wood, drily, "if I say that your voice, your manner, and, above all, your very extraordinary way of laughing, put me strangely in mind of one of the 'droll dogs,' (as you term them,) who helped to perpetrate the outrage I've just described. A little love from him would be enough. I am. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. "If you touch me I will kill you," said Ruth, grasping the scissors which lay beside the pencils—Hoddy's! The Wastrel laughed, still advancing.
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