He had never wanted daughters. The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. Ruth loved him. Most of the tables were for those who smoked only and drank wine, but there were a few spread with tablecloths and laid for dinner. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. Her heart's in the right place, at all events; and, since that's the case, the rest may perhaps come round, —that is, if she gets through her present illness. Everything I could do! Your father sat up all night.
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