" The little girl's countenance fell. They were on their way back home, or so she had thought. “And children must we women bear— “Oh, damn!” she cried, as the hundred-and-first couplet or so presented itself in her unwilling brain. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. She wanted to think. ’ ‘But what do you want it for, miss?’ ‘But to protect myself. Captain Hilary Roding and his inamorata, Miss Lucilla Froxfield.
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