He glanced up at Roding and met his eyes. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried his stoical indifference so far, as even to make a mocking grimace in Sharples's face, while that amiable functionary thrust Thames into the recess beside him. Then a light seemed to break in upon him. That's the kind, my friend, that always fall soft. Almost worthy of your own fertile imagination. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. Wood's anxiety to please her distinguished guests speedily displayed itself in a very plentiful, if not very dainty repast. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. “I thank you for your advice,” she said. " "What say you, Sir?" said the Amazon, with an engaging leer at the stranger.
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