Give me your staff. She turned on the lad with her, who was visibly relieved. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. “None, I thank you,” he answered. "But I'm a blackguard, too, Ruth. Distress, deep-rooted, and age old. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners.
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