Their small talk continued. CHAPTER XXIX. Was it a week ago? No, perhaps more. "I can't make you understand; I can't make you see things as I see them. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. I'm a graybeard, an old bachelor; so I am accorded certain privileges. "Ruth?" Silence for a moment. ‘But tell me this instead. ” “It offered from fifteen to two-and-twenty shillings a week—for drudgery. Last time I left home I felt as hard as nails. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him.
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