"Ali Baba, in a blue-serge coat!… God-forsaken fool!" CHAPTER XIII One day Ruth caught the patient's eyes following her about; but there was no question in the gaze, no interest; so she pretended not to notice. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. The bump was coarse and didn’t feel right. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it.
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