It was ended. Sir John followed me to London and married me. The dining saloon was done in mahogany and sandalwood, with eight cabins, four to port and four to starboard. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. Ann Veronica sat down in the other arm-chair and darned badly for a minute or so. The day had become suddenly overcast. “It was not necessary,” Sir John answered stiffly. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. ” “There was no marriage,” she answered. As he lay on his back, he fancied himself gradually slipping off the platform. ’ She thrust him out of the room and made for the stairs. “That’s all.
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