And in the Avenue she had an encounter with Ramage. Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. Wood could stand it no longer. The back windows of the houses (where any such existed) were strongly barricaded, and kept constantly shut; and the fortress was, furthermore, defended by high walls and deep ditches in those quarters where it appeared most exposed. They trudged and talked, and Manning struggled, as he said, to “get the hang of it all. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. So I ran away, blindly, knowing nothing of the world outside. ’ ‘Yes, do.
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