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. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. "Ruth!" She had gone to the door, aimlessly, without purpose. But Gerald kept to a casual note. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. ‘I do not need for you to tell me this. Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done.
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