“Ruth spoke again.
“‘Rawdon, don’t talk too loud. I’ll stay, yes, I’ll stay with you; only dad’ll kill you if he finds you here.’
“‘I’ve been up every night to find you,’ Westmacott said in a lower voice. ‘I’ve hung about hoping you’d come out. Ruth, you don’t know. I’m mad for you.... You’re my woman. What business have you to go with bloodless men? You come with me, and I’ll give you all you lack. I’ll be good to you, too, I swear I will. I’ll not drink; no, on my word, it’s the thought of you that drives me to it. Ruth!’
“He put out his arms and tried to seize her, but she recoiled and stood holding on to the butt-end of a stall.
“‘Hands off me, Rawdon.’
“‘You’re very particular,’ he sneered; and then, changing his tone, ‘Come, child, you’re just ridiculous. I know you better than that. Have you forgotten the day we drove to Tonbridge market? you wasn’t so nice then.’
“‘I disremember,’ she said stolidly, but under her stolidity I think she was shaken.
“‘You don’t disremember at all. There’s fire in you, Ruth, there’s blood; that’s why I like you. You’re shamming ladylike. I’ve got that gent with his accursed notions to thank, I suppose.’
“This reminded me with a start of my own identity. I could not stay eavesdropping, so I made up my mind and stepped out into the passage between the stalls.
“Westmacott and Ruth cried simultaneously,—