“There is no doubt whatever about that. Wild!" demanded Trenchard, as if he had formed a sudden resolution. My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. ‘Hilary is a darling. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. Ruth did not resent the use of her mind and body in this tale of adventure. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her.
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