He was a stranger. I would that you were my own. ” “You will give up anything I wish you to give up. You go to your room and ring for your maid. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. It was a bright and beautiful day: so bright, so beautiful, that even her sad heart was cheered by it. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. "What do you mean by that, sirrah?" cried Wood, reddening with anger. ’ ‘I do. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden.
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