The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. An action which gave Gerald furiously to think. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. And then she came out into the street, sure only of one thing—that she could not return directly to her lodgings. How plainly he could see the patch of garden in the summer sunshine and the white hollyhocks nodding above the picket fence! ***** Ruth sat waiting for the half hour, subconsciously. Slowly, he drew back his head and looked into her face.
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