Secretly she was gratified to be assigned to the rôle of an old traveller. They trudged along a little hungry, because of the fruitarian refreshments, and mentally very active. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. He guided himself between her legs. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir.
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