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She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. "Only, what you have done is out of all human calculation. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. It was an odd room, used principally for the reception of guests and visiting dignitaries, packed from end to end with ill-assorted sofas and padded chairs. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. " CHAPTER XIII. No, don’t let me call myself that. But this was not a season in which to be needlessly scrupulous.
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