It is not well that a daughter should talk to her father as Ruth talked to hers that day. Then her fingers moved. At the cost of quite a number of torn drafts she succeeded in evolving this: “DEAR MR. “You shall go,” he declared. It was a dull, foggy day, and the atmosphere was so thick and heavy, that, at eight o'clock, the curious who arrived near the prison could scarcely discern the tower of St. CHAPTER IV. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male.
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