So the talk went on. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. But most of all, I wanted to love. Your attitude to me—” He fell into a brown study. You do not believe his statement?" "I do not," replied Winifred. Paris, always beautiful even in the darkness, glittered away to the horizon. We’re hard stuff!” Then she went on: “To think that is my father! Oh, my dear! He stood over me like a cliff; the thought of him nearly turned me aside from everything we have done. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. “I wish this hadn’t turned up to-day of all days. . ’ Was there a careful note in her voice? Gerald gave no sign, keeping his own tone light.
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