He gave glimpses of possibilities. He would repeat them innumerable times, and patiently Ruth would repeat her answers. Ann Veronica’s tense nerves started, and she stood still with her eyes upon him, wondering what it might be that impended. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. "But you are a good man, and you'll understand. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father.
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