How little he knew about Ruth—the background from which she had sprung! He knew that her father was a missioner, that her mother was dead, that she had been born on this island, and that, at the time of his collapse, she had been on the way to an aunt in the States. He waved a cordial goodbye. There was now a girl in the picture, so it seemed. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling. ’ ‘In one little minute,’ she said, snapping her fingers, ‘it is over and voilà tout. He was not used to not getting his way. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. That’s one thing clear. There was a lapse of time, an interval of blackness; then he found his hand in hers and she was leading him at a run up the side of the mountain. It was a society column about the richest men in the world and their lavish parties.
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