"Ruth?" Silence for a moment. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. He had never wanted daughters. . He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. I owed his father a grudge: that I settled long ago. Eh? Banging against the old rollers—that'll put some life into us both. The palanquin is hired and so is the procession. I am always reinventing myself with new styles. White calls them. “What nonsense is this? What raving! My dear child, you DO live, you DO exist! You have this home.
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