Having once more got into the chimney, he climbed to a level with the ward above, and recommenced operations as vigorously as before. Perhaps the day of her recompense was at hand. Why had he offered her that kiss on board The Tigress? Perhaps that had been his hour of disenchantment. He was just getting cross about your being late for dinner—you know his way—when it came. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. “Lady Ferringhall, sir. I believe that her ladyship is going to Carey House, and on to the Marquis of Waterford’s ball,” he added, hastily consulting a diary on the hall table.
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