“I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. “Politics!” Ennison answered grimly. She was recalling the circumstances under which she had engaged herself to Manning, and trying to understand a curious development of the quality of this relationship. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. But her husband, whose deportment to her was considerably changed since the fatal knot had been tied, paid no attention whatever to her grief.
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