" "What should I retract, villain?" cried the woollen-draper, who at the sound of Jack's voice had regained his confidence. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. All other things were without weight or consequence before the fact that this poor young man would have to depend upon her for his life. He talked very little and rather absently. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped.
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