In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. In the presence of the husband of his mistress Rollo was always dignifiedly cheerful, but he never leaped or cavorted as he did when alone with Ruth. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. The girl’s eyes never left his face. Like the parrot, she could memorize the lines, but she could not understand them. Her new husband had paid for a cadre of escorts back to Mantua.
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