” “That will follow,” said Kitty Brett—“that will follow. The sing-song girl, seeing Ruth, extended her hands and began to chatter rapidly. I am a single man, and——” “Thank you,” she interrupted. She mewed weakly, “Sebastian? What have you done? Where is Gianfrancesco? Did you kill him?” He crossed his arms. His kisses drew deeper, he started unlacing her dress. He played variations on this theme for the better part of an hour. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. Leaving the library by the same door she had first used to enter it earlier that day, she crossed the two little antechambers and moved on through the rooms.
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