She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. The doctor turned quickly and made for the door, which he opened and shut gently because he was assured that Ruth was listening across the hall for any sign of violence. "Now your curiosity's satisfied, child," continued Kneebone, "perhaps, you'll attend to my orders. Furious shouting, and the thunder of running feet. He glanced at it, and saw the bloodied blade. There was no such a thing as perfection in a mixed world.
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