“What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly. He was vaguely uneasy; he knew not what about. This was Blueskin, who burst through the trees, and sword in hand assaulted the thief-taker. ‘That was one of my own clever stories. Raising the bowl in his right hand, Jack glanced towards the balcony, in which the group of ladies were seated, and begged to drink their healths; he then turned to Kneebone and the others, who extended their hands towards him, and raised it to his lips. For Ruth was in love, tenderly and beautifully in love; but she did not know how to express it beyond the fetch and carry phase. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room.
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