The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. Not since she had discovered it had Ruth touched or opened the mission Bible; but to-night (the same upon which the wonderful manuscripts started on their long and circuitous voyage to America) she was inexplicably drawn to it. He was well mounted, as was his companion; and had pistols in his holsters, and a hanger at his girdle. Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time.
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