” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck. “Lucy, you have to play for us after dinner, oh please. We'll have him yet. The coachman answered by a surly grunt, and, plying his whip with redoubled zeal, shaped his course down Dyot Street; traversed that part of Holborn, which is now called Broad Street, and where two ancient alms-houses were, then, standing in the middle of that great thoroughfare, exactly opposite the opening of Compston Street; and, diving under a wide gateway on the left, soon reached a more open space, surrounded by mean habitations, coach-houses and stables, called Kendrick Yard, at the further end of which Saint Giles's round-house was situated. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. So, step by step, and hurt by hurt, Ruth was learning that John Smith was John Smith and nobody else. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. “Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest.
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