The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. A sob was strangled in her throat. She disengaged her hands and stood up. She really must not go to that affair. "I wonder," said Ruth. But her husband, whose deportment to her was considerably changed since the fatal knot had been tied, paid no attention whatever to her grief. "How is Mr. ” “Bit starchy,” said Ann Veronica, and altered the key abruptly. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. ’ ‘I am relieved to hear it.
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