The effort of self-repression cost him a sob. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. He stood transfixed. Eh bien, why did he not repeat it? What was she to say? ‘Prudence,’ she began hesitantly, pronouncing the name in the French way, ‘has said that she will help me to—to marry an Englishman. I hope I may never come near her. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. I think I asked if I could eat lunch with her and Trisha Deere one day and she said there was no room at the table. “What did it matter?” she cried. I’m too young 117 for this to sound right. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. " Neither man spoke.
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