By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. “Go it, miss!” cried one. It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. Wood?" "With pleasure," replied the woollen-draper. ‘Now what?’ The guard jerked his head up the corridor. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself. His deduction was correct that the beauty of Ruth Enschede could not remain hidden long even on a forgotten isle. So she married him.
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