He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. You’re splendid stuff, you know, but you’ve got nothing ready to sell. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. She felt that there was a hidden meaning under his words. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it.
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