"Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. "Come down stairs directly, and let your mother look at your wrist. But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened. " Thames Darrell was, indeed, a youth of whom a person of far greater worldly consequence than the worthy carpenter might have been justly proud. Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires. His physical body was predictably paralyzed with shyness and fear of rejection, barely soothed with a series 51 of blatantly direct requests and compliments. It is the same man, for he raved in the hospital, and they fetched me. They were silent and no longer observant, being more or less exhausted by the tedious action of the chairs. Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street.
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