"It is your son. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. "But, I own, I think it is like. "For what?" "I had the paper with me. In fact, one of them was downright sceptical. The service had not proceeded far, when she was greatly disturbed by the entrance of a person who placed himself opposite her, and sought to attract her attention by a number of little arts, surveying her, as he did so, with a very impudent and offensive stare. Through a blur of tears Ruth followed the rocking light until it vanished. No more scuffling. I am not prying for my own amusement. She answered in whispers, for there was the white arm of a woman in the next box peeping beyond the partition within a yard of him.
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