The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would be no escape. What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'. " "And what—what was your answer?" demanded the widow, eagerly. “How will you live?” she appealed. Anyone else who finds out must be killed, otherwise, you insure death or worse for us. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. He suddenly realized that he could not keep you for ever in this part of the world; so he sends you to your aunt. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance.
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