“And you, my Ruth?”
A shudder shook her frame; she answered mechanically,—
“I should be guided by my husband.”
The little clock ticked on, backward and forward, and forward and back, dully reiterating, “Time flies, time flies.”
“I have quite finished,” said Levice, rising.
Kemp did likewise.
“After all,” he said deferentially, “you have not answered my question.”
“I—think—I—have,” replied the old man, slowly. “But to what question do you refer?”
“The simple one,—will you give me your daughter?”
“No, sir; I will not.”