There’s stories, too, about his demonstrator, Capes Something or other. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. " "Ay, here I am," said Jack, throwing off his hat and wig, and marching towards the group, amongst whom there was a general movement of surprise at his audacity. Hours were spent in preparation for the event. Light flooded the place. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery. They were on their way back home, or so she had thought. CHAPTER VII.
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