" "It is false," cried Mrs. “I would like to go home,” she cried, “to please her. You don't notice the heat; but it is always there, pressing down. “I can’t conceive what you want. We are alone and we can say and do what we please. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. ’ ‘What?’ Hilary glanced from Gerald to Melusine, and coloured up. He had his sections of the Siegfried map folded in his pocket, and he squatted up with his legs crossed like an Indian idol while she lay prone beside him and followed every movement of his indicatory finger. Escape was now impossible. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. “Well,” he said at last slowly, “I’ll pay it. "Why you pretended not to recognize the photograph of the young fellow you toted around these diggings all day yesterday.
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