” 209 Clotilde was no fool. He pressed the long shapely hand warmly in his. Meanwhile, the clergyman, bare-headed and in his surplice, advanced to meet them. ‘Come, cry a truce. But all these hours, trying to teach the child wariness toward life, and the moment his back was turned, this! He was, perhaps, still dazed by the inner revelation—his own interest in Ruth. ‘Do you tell me that my disreputable son had the infernal insolence to pass you off as that whoring Frenchwoman’s daughter?’ His answer was in their faces. He misstated her age and address; but you can’t get home on him for a thing like that.
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