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Luckily, Mrs. ” He said with a laugh. . . It was his belief that the French had enough troubles of their own in these difficult times without bothering to nose out British business. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. I'll call it my wedding gift. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. His tone was kind and sympathetic. She could not say who, not yet. CHAPTER XIV.
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