Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill. ‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie. But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened. . . "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes.
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