The hansom drove off. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. Again, he would ask a few questions, and Ruth would answer them. McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. “Ah!” said Ramage, impressively. Her courage and her presence of mind had alike deserted her. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. "I shall be back presently," replied Thames, evasively. “It was,” she admitted.
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