She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's. Yes, this was a little better. Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway. He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. "The marriage was never consummated," continued the imperturbable stranger. Probably some woman on the loose; they were as thick as flies over here—dizzy blondes. She crushed the letter in her hand.
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