"I have killed her," cried Jack. "Dear me!" she added, as she pledged the amorous woollen-draper, "what a beautiful ring that is. Ruth shivered; she was cold. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. " And he proceeded to unfold his scheme to the woollen-draper. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son.
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