She passed inside and upstairs without a word. "And, does any of our bright blood flow in the veins of a ruffianly housebreaker?" cried Trenchard, with a look of bewilderment. "My coat!" Ruth did not move but stared astonishedly at the patient. He was carelessly dressed, and there were marks of unrest upon his features. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. These sisters moved in a grown-up world inaccessible to Ann Veronica’s sympathies, and to a large extent remote from her curiosity.
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