He smothered a laugh. Cathy threw Mike a look. "My head fairly turns round. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. With a faint view of overtaking them the pursuer urged his steed to a quicker pace. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. Ruth was at that stage where the absorption of facts is great, but where the mental digestion is not quite equal to the task. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath. Miss Garvice repeated again, and almost in the same words she used at every discussion, her contribution to the great question. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered.
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