During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. When they made love, he seemed to shift into the realm of possessiveness. If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper. Her voice recalled him. Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief.
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