He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. I took him out of the hands of death. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. The open windows were above them now and, unless the intruder were to lean out, they could not possibly be seen. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. She felt sickeningly empty. The militia were in already.
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