"Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. She did not therefore reveal to him that he had guaged her with accuracy. None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. Living, he knew that he would never send that letter. She pulled her hand away quickly. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. Indeed it was apparent, from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related. His shouts for help were answered by roars of mockery and laughter. Her eyes noted it mercilessly. But here the resemblance stopped. " "What villain?" cried Hogarth.
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