But also this must not go on. Taking the wind was her business in life. Now there is none. Then Valade—was the man as big a fool as Nicholas?—tried again. Slowly Prudence Sindlesham nodded her head, her eyes never leaving his face. "Lend a hand with the ruffles, Blueskin!" he shouted, as that personage, who had just recovered from the stunning effects of the blow, contrived to pick himself up. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. She wedged the towel between her legs. So, forthwith, without any preliminaries beyond introductions, he began the ceremony; and shortly Ruth Enschede became Ruth Spurlock, for better or for worse. Her own pack was so light that she left it in the locker.
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