’ He moved to his friend and grasped his hand in a gesture as deliberately dramatic as the storytelling of mademoiselle. “In the end,” it seemed to be thinking, “they embalmed me with the utmost respect—sound spices chosen to endure—the best! I took my world as I found it. ’ He saw that Mrs Sindlesham, for all her vaunted freedom of speech, was honestly shocked by this revelation. How would it serve Nicholas to keep the truth from his daughter? A tiny thread of disquiet troubled him. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No. She shuddered, adding confidentially, ‘You wouldn’t get me in there now, mind. ” “Rather! But I wonder why you don’t mean it?” “Because, I suppose, the other thing is better. But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. “There’s another instinct, too,” he went on, “in a state of suppression, unless I’m very much mistaken; a child-expelling instinct.
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