To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. “Don’t you get it, Lucy? I’ve always thought he was an idiot. “They are full of the usual foolish stories. “Nigel, don’t you understand. Sheppard in the asylum, and take her this, and send her that;—and I've never prevented you, though such mistaken liberality's enough to provoke a saint. He was a handsome man, and Lucy could see the strong resemblance of John to him.
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