F. Sheila, a normally sound sleeper, woke one night to find both her husband and her foster daughter had snuck from their beds, and this infuriated her. Ruth had lived in a world without caresses. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. " There had never been, from that fatal hour eight months gone down to this, the inclination to confess. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful.
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