" "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. She had tasted freedom now, and so far she had not felt the need of protection. To be complete, my vengeance must be tardy. ’ ‘Don’t be too sure,’ said Miss Froxfield darkly, with a mischievous glance at her betrothed.
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