She blew on the hand cannon and grabbed her bag of gunpowder. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. Secretly she was gratified to be assigned to the rôle of an old traveller. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. From now on, you’re going to listen to me for a change. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. Then perhaps I shall send for him if he has not forgotten. “It really is not necessary. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon.
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