” He spoke loudly. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. “It is hard to express one’s self, but I do want to be honest with you. Ah, Thierry and Poussaint, if my memory serves me. I felt I MUST do something anyhow, and up I came just as soon as I could to see you. \" He piped up. I shall be delighted to rescue you. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. He noted an ebony cane laid close to hand, which suggested she was able to get about. \" \"All right. There was some one there. She was supposed to be reading at home, and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr.
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