"You'd have hit it off better if you'd called her The Sow. "May come!—it will come!—it shall come!" cried the carpenter, shaking his hand menacingly at him. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. It was fastened inside. "You may," replied Jack: "I'll fight for you to the last gasp. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. She explained she was expecting an important interview, and asked that her visitor should be duly shown in. So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny.
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