And, if you hear any odd noise in the parlour, don't mind it. CHAPTER XIX. Let me keep you from that man’s clutches. She bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house. That boy—blind as a bat! Why, he hadn't seen the Woman until to-night! From the first chord of the Grieg concerto to the finale of the Chopin ballade, Ruth had sat tensely on the edge of her chair. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. ‘I have an excellent excuse to remain comfortably ensconced in my parlour here, able to indulge in my favourite pastime. You can’t look me in the eyes and say you don’t care for me. I am ready to wait for you, to wait your pleasure, to give all my life to winning it.
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