I'm used to insult as I am to misfortune, and am grown callous to both; but I'm not used to compassion, and know not how to take it. I don't know whose brainless head it may be, but it'll do for my collection. I can't spare you at present. " Here Ruth returned with the broth; and McClintock strode aft, convinced that he was going to have something far more interesting than books to read. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. It was bare of any furnishings. I want to love him. ” Chapter XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” “I said some afternoon,” she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, “but I certainly did not mean to-day.
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