Certainly not a gentlewoman. Ireton rushed forward to open the wicket for him. Only three days. In fine, to marry Ruth (if she would consent) as a punishment for what he had done! To whip his soul so long as he lived, but to let his body go free! To provide for her, to work and dream for her, to be tender and thoughtful and loyal, to shelter and guard her, to become accountable to God for her future. The girl had told him distinctly that her name was Anna. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac.
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