" "Waste not another word with him, Thames," cried Jack. He was dressed immaculately in a suit of heavy Shantung silk. At last he could bear it no longer. Smith's solitary orb followed in the same direction. Diane Vorsack clicked her tongue in a “tsk”. But let that verse tell my secret. Jack instantly sprang to his feet, and as his guards construed the motion into an attempt to escape, several of them drew their swords and motioned to him to sit down. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown. "Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. The ring's yours, and you're mine.
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