Fresh flowers of loveliness have budded, expanded, died. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. " "When you please, Sir," said Thames, coldly. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. He saw what he had done only as it related to Ruth. The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds.
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