’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. She turned a resolute face southward. It came again. When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery. ’ If you engage me it must be upon my own merits. . Wood and the waterman, meanwhile, proceeded in the direction of St.
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