She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. It is no good. When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. " "What time is it?" inquired Jack. " "And, if you want an additional inducement to do so, I can tell you there's no one —not even his mother—whom he loves so well as you. ’ ‘I could have done so at the first and saved you the pain,’ she told him merrily.
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