"You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. “Mr. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. ” He sat like a man turned to stone. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. ” She turned away. ’ ‘You ain’t never,’ gasped Pottiswick. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. Her natural instincts reasserted themselves. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true.
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