” Chapter XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH The manservant, with his plain black clothes and black tie, had entered the room with a deferential little gesture. . . From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered. "O lud! what an exquisite box!" cried Edgeworth Bess. She was given a glimpse of his soul. I have been insulted, and cursed at, and threatened with both pistol and dagger. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. 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. I cannot work, I cannot teach.
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