Michelle moaned and Lucy, unable to help herself, stroked her hair. Sir John felt that after all forty-five was not so very old. He had been on the point of leaving the restaurant. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. Ennison looked down on him in disgust. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind.
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