His arms slipped around her waist as they were on the doorstep and he kissed her lips sweetly. And yet, on the very site of the sordid tenements and squalid courts we have mentioned, where the felon openly made his dwelling, and the fraudulent debtor laughed the object of his knavery to scorn—on this spot, not two centuries ago, stood the princely residence of Charles Brandon, the chivalrous Duke of Suffolk, whose stout heart was a well of honour, and whose memory breathes of loyalty and valour. A blow from the iron bar instantly stretched the ruffian on the floor. "If you touch me I will kill you," said Ruth, grasping the scissors which lay beside the pencils—Hoddy's! The Wastrel laughed, still advancing. "The gentleman under the table," she answered. " "Peace!" retorted Jack, with increased bitterness.
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