That’s who you ought to go and see, miss. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. Things happen out this way. Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. . . It was apparent, and then it faded into the quality of an inevitable necessity. She was by his side. The house was eerily silent, which alerted her to the idea that someone might be listening. "Well, Sir?" gasped Sir Rowland. What is your father's business?" The question was an impertinence, but Ruth was not aware of that. She had never been there before at that hour, in that light, and it seemed to her as if she came to it all for the first time. "You don't recollect me, I presume?" premised the stranger, taking a seat.
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