I didn’t think—I don’t know what I thought. The Wastrel did not relish this. In the midst of this light stood a young woman. Before a month has elapsed, your mother will be mine. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. She had mentioned the address where she and her sister had lived. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. "Ah! Terry O'Flaherty!" he cried, shouting after the Irishman, who took to his heels as soon as he found his murderous attempt unsuccessful; "you may run, but you'll not get out of my reach.
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