"I believe he's gone," he said, returning to Jonathan. But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened. “He fancied that he did,” she corrected him coolly. The man was dangerous. A glance sufficed to show the young man how matters stood. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation methods and addresses. “What is the good of pretending?” she said.
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