As a matter of fact, the cold truth is that he has made me a thief, Ruth, and he has made you something almost as bad--a gambler!" The follower had become the leader, and she was urging Ruth Tolliver slowly to the door.

Ruth was protesting--she could not throw herself on the kindness of Ronicky Doone--it could not be done.

It would be literally throwing herself at his head.

But here the door opened, and she allowed herself to be led out into the hall.

They had not made more than half a dozen steps down its dim length when the guard hurried toward them.
"Talk to him," whispered Caroline Smith.