"Ah! traitor!" cried Jack, pulling the trigger of his pistol. "I have not trusted you. As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out. " "May I trust you?" cried Thames, eagerly. " "I feel bewildered," said Ruth. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. ” “Personally,” he went on, “I must confess to a great disappointment.
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