‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ protested Hilary angrily. " "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. Vanity was a vice not just to be deprecated, but effectively strangled at birth. ‘They hold their nose up, so. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. "Stay!" cried Wood, "this is a most perplexing business—if you really are privy to the affair——" "We'll talk of it to-morrow, Sir," returned Jackson, cutting him short.
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