You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied. Love … to take her in his arms and to comfort her: and then to add to her cup of bitterness the knowledge that her husband was a thief! For himself he did not care; God could continue to grind and pulverize him; but to add another grain to the evil he had already wrought upon Ruth was unthinkable. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. Manning. At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past.
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