The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would be no escape. Gossip was the driving force in Sheila’s existence. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. It’s not a bit of good pretending there’s any Higher Truth or wonderful principle in this business. She was correct, and when I went directly to the street she had named, there you were, walking into the Butcher Shop. " Amazed at the boy's assurance, Wood left off boxing his ears for a moment, and, looking at him steadfastly, said in a grave tone, "Jack, Jack, you'll come to be hanged!" "Better be hanged than hen-pecked," retorted the lad with a malicious grin.
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