"No, no, let him alone," interposed Wood. She was crushed with a sense of her own terrible impotency. Brendon and I returned from the ‘Unusual,’ and found him lying in my room shot through the lungs. Jack, whose back was towards it, did not see it; but he heard, from the pitying exclamations of the crowd, that it was in view. He was a wonderful little creature with a perfect tiny face, mottled pink cheeks, and eyes brighter than May. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. He backed away from her.
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