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. That window there…. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. It was obviously pitched well, hitting her head at a good thirtyfive miles per hour. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. One of those hanging moments ensued— hypnotic. . Once, both Ruth and Spurlock accompanied McClintock far south, to an island of blacks; and Spurlock had his first experience with the coconut dance and the booming of wooden tom-toms. For this he was prepared; but he was not prepared for the almost insurmountable obstacles which it presented. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced.
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