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CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. Katy’s face was vapid and undistinguishable from a crowd, but pretty in an abstract sense, like the face of a baby doll. “I’d never have a day of peace again, John. ' Upon which the other answered, 'that he accepted his invitation with pleasure, and would make a point of waiting upon him,' Ha! ha! ha!" "Did he say so?" cried Shotbolt. "Few stay more than a day. Plote was sleeping or deaf. Tell me, Sir," she added, with forced calmness, and grasping Wood's arm; "what has Jack done? Tell me in a word, that I may know the worst. "He has escaped!" exclaimed the knight; "we have searched every corner of the house without finding a trace of him. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance.
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