"He is dying?" whispered Ruth. " "It may be; but if it shortens the distance and lightens the journey, I care not," retorted the widow, who seemed by this reproach to be roused into sudden eloquence. The Master of the Mint. Her head dangled unnaturally for an instant, unleashed from its moorings, then sank to join her husband’s on the floor. "Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. Her eyes flashed and she withdrew the dagger, pulling away from him.
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