There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. I'm not quite such a greenhorn as Shotbolt, Jack, whatever you may think. “Lots of ‘em!” Capes chuckled. There was a huge desk of heavily carved ebony at one end, and at the centre, a couple of straight-backed chairs stood before a great fireplace at the outer wall, flanked by two bookshelves with casement windows above. Manning questioned whether when they were bad they were really beautiful or when they were beautiful bad. She seemed honestly glad to see him. He held in his hands many threads. The more she disentangled the lines of her situation the deeper grew her self-disgust. Along the floor ran an iron bar to which Jack's chain was attached, so that he could move along it from one end of the chamber to the other.
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