Ruth broke the exquisite pose by summoning Ah Cum, who was lured into a lecture upon the water-clock. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. “But that’s quite different,” replied Anna.
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