Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my memory is gone—quite gone. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. So Ruth found that for a while her eyes were free. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. . That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. So strongly was he impressed with this idea, that grasping the iron bar with both hands, he dashed it furiously against the door, making the passage echo with the blows.
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