Curiosity to see what a sing-song girl was like took possession of Ruth's thoughts. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. Talked about his years, his position and his constituents, and always sneaked off back to his hotel just when the fun was going to begin. "Under these circumstances, Rowland did what any other sensible person would do. ‘Not yet, madame. "Ruth?" he called. The manager had sketched the girl's character, or rather had interpreted it, from the incidents which had happened since dinner. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams.
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