Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. ” He said. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. I wonder if a man can quite understand that passionate feeling? It is quite a passionate feeling.
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