“But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. I do not know. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. He had looked at it before without comprehension. No matter what they do, always someone to bolster them up, to lend them money, and to coddle them. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it. "I shall want a bottle or two of sack, and a flask of usquebaugh. But, though I cannot reward you, Heaven will. Then I tucked it nice and snug under the saddle-bag. ’ So pat, thought Gerald. The poor child! What frightful things she must have seen on that island of hers! The noise of crashing glass caused a diversion; and Ruth turned gratefully toward the sound. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying.
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