She looked around the apartment for other people. Meanwhile, the object of all this fearful disturbance had made his escape to Newgate, from the roof of which he witnessed the destruction of his premises. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. He put his free arm around her and held the censer ready; and as Ruth snuggled her cheek against his sleeve, they were, so far as intent, in each other's arms. To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether. “No lecturing, Anna!” she exclaimed. “Let me help you,” he begged. “I would rather put up with your own efforts, however clumsy. Let’s go up to my room.
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