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] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. She stopped abruptly, and looked in a flower-shop window. English a little! ‘You ought to have English only. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened. His manner, however, was as stern and haughty as ever, and his glances retained their accustomed fire.
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