" At this moment, Saint Sepulchre's clock struck six. “You say that he is alive. Just because she was sorry for that young fool! "Uh-huh," he repeated, rising and bowing as he passed Ruth's table. Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. A thousand eager assistants pressed behind him. The tears flowed faster. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure.
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