He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. The ragged edge. She had heard the trader utter it many times. “Dear friend,” she said, “do you not think that you are breaking an unspoken compact? I am very sorry. Shoplatch. You do not wish to marry me at all, that is seen. You belong to me, and I have waited long enough. “He is very kind, Anna, really, and not half such a prig as he seems. I've engaged to watch over you as a son, and I will do so as far as I'm able; but if you neglect my advice, what chance have I of benefitting you? On one point I've made up my mind—you shall either obey me, or leave me. She would not let her move. He embraced her small body in his arms, kissing her forehead over and over.
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