“Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. So far as I am concerned, I am just now a hopeless nonentity. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. " He then spoke authoritatively to the girl. “Why come after me after all these years, Sebastianus? Haven’t you found any sycophants to convert, any nubile young nymphets to bring into the cannibal flock?” “Why should I do that if there is still the chance of you?” “What if there could be no chance of me? How do you know you can have me?” “I see your game. There's my thumb upon it.
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