" "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. Cold drops stood upon Wood's brow, as he encountered this obstacle. When I am leading a true life, a pure and simple life free of all stimulants and excitements, I think—I think— oh! with pellucid clearness; but if I so much as take a mouthful of meat—or anything—the mirror is all blurred. .
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