"Halloa!" cried Jack, looking round, and trying to fix his inebriate gaze upon the speaker,—"who's that?" "Your mother," replied Mrs. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down. To take Spring and Love out of her life, as if there were no human instincts to tell Ruth what was being denied her! And what must have been the man's thought as he came upon Ruth wearing a gown of her mother's? —a fair picture of the mother in the primrose days? Not a flicker of an eyelash; steel and granite outwardly. None presented themselves to save him from that return.
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