” 129 She smiled wider. “You do not even know what you are talking about. I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. She addressed an envelope to Ramage, and scrawled on a half-sheet of paper, “The rest shall follow. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. ‘You said—who?’ ‘Remenham. Think! You could not have done it. "Forgive—forgive me!" "I have nothing to forgive," replied Mrs. . "What is it?" "Can't you see? Together, down there; you and I!… As my wife! Both of us, never to be lonely again!… Will you marry me, Ruth?" As many a wiser woman had done, Ruth mistook thrilling eagerness for love. V.
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