Chapter XIII “HE WILL NOT FORGET!” The external changes in Brendon following on his alteration of fortune were sufficiently noticeable. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. "Auntie?" he cried. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure. But he has never been near her—never. The mere fact that he was there in the train alongside her, helping her, sitting opposite to her in the dining-car, presently sleeping on a seat within a yard of her, made her heart sing until she was afraid their fellow passengers would hear it. He sounds to me like a soldier of fortune.
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