Ruth could not be told now. They were terrible, horrible people. Kneebone smiled assent. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. The splendid voices sang on from phase to phase of love’s unfolding, the ship drove across the sea to the beating rhythm of the rowers. Still, thereafter she had avoided Morgan's; partly out of fear and partly because of her father's mandate.
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