CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. Her attenuated arms were crossed upon her breast; and her black brows and eyelashes contrasted fearfully with the livid whiteness of her skin. ‘I am not in the least in a rage. Voilà tout. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. ” “I wish,” said Ann Veronica, with sudden anger, “that you could know what it is to live in a pit!” She stood up as she spoke, and put down her cup beside Miss Garvice’s. She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century.
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