She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. Enchanted. ‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. He was not in love with her en désespoir which, he said, was necessary if a man would marry without getting a dowry from his wife. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. “Let go!” said Ann Veronica, through her teeth, strenuously inflicting agony, and he cried out sharply and let go and receded a pace.
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