The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. She made noises between weeping and laughter as she went. In some instances she tantalizes the victim for years and mocks him in the end. It opened and a nun’s head popped out. The applause was uproarious at the end of the concert. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. She would take this one back with her. Her courage and her presence of mind had alike deserted her. "Cease your confounded clutter!" said a young man, whose swarthy visage, seen in the torchlight, struck Wood as being that of a Mulatto.
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