"Where did you pick it up?" "I believe I told you; at Yale. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. Indignation carried her through that night, that men and the world could so entreat her. She was dressed in a little white frock, with a very long body, and very short sleeves, which looked (from a certain fullness about the hips,) as if it was intended to be worn with a hoop. " The woollen-draper replied by gallantly handing her the box, which was instantly snatched from her by Blueskin, who, after helping himself to as much of its contents as he could conveniently squeeze between his thumb and finger, put it very coolly in his pocket.
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