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It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. Gerald frowned. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. “Quite alone, sir. ‘What the devil for? I’ll have one of the men ride the creature up tomorrow. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice.
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