The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. Jack, however, had an expedient for mastering this difficulty. Having seen his mistress safe down, Jack instantly descended, leaving the best part of his clothes, as a memorial of his flight, to the jailor. “But—your people!” she gasped. I am the cause of his ill-usage. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. He wondered if, after all, McClintock wasn't nearest the truth, that Ruth was one of those unfortunate yet innocent women who make havoc with the hearts of men. Anna said nothing.
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