A single blanket constituted his sole covering at night. Feeling rather exhausted, it occurred to him that possibly some provisions might have been left by the constable; and, looking about, he perceived a pitcher of water and a small brown loaf on the floor. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. This is a plot entirely abominable, and I scorn to be part of it. Ennison listened, and his eyes glowed. I admit it. The moment he was out in the hall, Ruth sat up hugging and rocking her body in delight. “Annabel,” she said slowly, “if I fight this thing out myself, can I trust you that it will not be a vain sacrifice? After what you have said it is useless for us to play with words. Montague Hill.
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