” She leaned against the back wall of the place, sinking slowly. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. She was carefree. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. When the disillusion comes, when the fairy story ends, if she is blessed with children, she doesn't mind. There are many things which I do not understand. Dinner was quite uneventful. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. Spurlock began to munch his water-chestnuts.
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