How little he knew about Ruth—the background from which she had sprung! He knew that her father was a missioner, that her mother was dead, that she had been born on this island, and that, at the time of his collapse, she had been on the way to an aunt in the States. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. " "A young fellow who thinks he's in love, when he has only been reading too much. “I’d have to be blown up into a thousand pieces. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. She thought me— filthy. And with a hideous expression of pain, he fainted.
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