He wondered if, after all, McClintock wasn't nearest the truth, that Ruth was one of those unfortunate yet innocent women who make havoc with the hearts of men. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path. “There ought to be some means of getting at him,” he said. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. He laughed lightly. Kneebone, addressing his comely attendant; "put a few more plates on the table, and bring up whatever there is in the larder.
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