] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. All this was the work of a minute. Then a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined— to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher. A silence ensued.
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