"Not exactly," answered Jonathan, drily. He continued his ditty, in spite of the angry
glances of his leader. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect
light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy
drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance,
but with a very shrewd aspect. "If you touch me I will kill you," said Ruth, grasping the scissors which lay
beside the pencils—Hoddy's!
The Wastrel laughed, still advancing. Though they do, in secret, I believe. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew
pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in
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Anna sat back in her cab, but found it remain stationary.
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