“Well,” she admitted. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. She taught him how to sail a proa, how to hack open a milk-coconut, how to relish bamboo sprouts. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her. She felt herself shaking again. “You Mr.
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