It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. Anna, my love, you cannot have forgotten so soon. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. She wasn’t well-liked really, I think people were jealous of her. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. “Now she’s all hat and ideas,” he said, with an air of humor. Here he was preparing to leap over the hedge into the fields on the left, when he was intercepted by two horsemen, who, hearing the shouts, rode up and struck at him with the butt-ends of their heavy riding-whips.
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