She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. "But I'm a blackguard, too, Ruth. I pledged my thumb that, dead or alive, I'd pay the wager if I lost; and I should like to be as good as my word. The old man was conducted to Jack's cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during their interview. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. Oh, and weeks and months of thought and feeling there are bottled up too. She lifted her shoulders in an eloquent shrug. And the woollen-draper departed.
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