"Old Morgan the trader," she explained, "used to save me Tit-Bits. ‘It does not matter to me if he comes or no, madame. "Stop a minute, my dear," cried Austin. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. From the first of these alighted Thames, or, as he must now be styled, the Marquis de Chatillon.
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