Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. Her amusement fled and she stared at him, as a slow thump began beating at her breast. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. I don’t want to hear you. Wild's. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. The arrival of the cart at the end of Field Lane, appeared the signal for an attempt at rescue. "Enough," said Jack, recovering his composure.
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