Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. "My coat!" Ruth did not move but stared astonishedly at the patient. “I am afraid,” she said, “that he must have a skeleton key to these rooms. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. Yet you catch her eye—you can’t seem to escape from it. He stood up and she ushered him out of the small room. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house.
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