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"My child!" he groaned faintly. Her father was right: Ruth must never know. “Hotel Ritz,” he said mechanically to the coachman. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure. Before a word could be said, however, a slight noise was heard in the chimney, and Jack with his irons on descended from it. But this is like—like walking round a house that looks square and complete and finding an unexpected long wing running out behind. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes.
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