Once more he begged; but as Ruth only repeated her sharp command, he spun about and raced toward the jungle. "Have a moment's patience, Sir Rowland," returned Wild; "and you shall hear. Sheppard. You know—I worship you. “I think this ends the business,” he said, turning to his sister. " Immediately he stepped back. “I am convinced you haven’t thought this out,” he went on. He would raise her up once again, ply her with silks and jewels again, all of the accoutrements of the new generation: the cars, the toys, the restaurants, and the prestige. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. Once more he was the searcher.
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