Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. ‘Oh, peste. Here was the place behind the shed where she had used to hide from Roddy’s persecutions, and here the border of herbaceous perennials under whose stems was fairyland. ‘Now I see that you are mad indeed. Morgan the trader did not haggle over the pearls, but gave me at once what he judged a fair price. " The doctor had entered the room fully determined to tell the patient the major part of Ruth's story, to inspire him with proper respect and gratitude. She drew it out with shaking fingers. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed.
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