She did not think for one moment what interpretation he might put upon the word “lover. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. " Jack Sheppard again sought his pistol, and was only withheld from levelling it at the thief-taker's head, by the hope that he might gather some further information respecting his mother. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. She lost it in the Mint. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. Something namelessly abhorrent in the eyes of those men…! She knew what arms were for—to fold and embrace and to hold one tightly; but why men wished to kiss women was still a profound mystery.
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