"Holloa—what's that?" cried Austin, starting up. Before any assistance could be rendered by the jailers, who stood astounded, Blueskin had got Wild in his clutches. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. There is a place—This isn’t the place. The curtain came festooning slowly down, the music ceased, the lights in the auditorium glowed out, and Ann Veronica woke out of her confused dream of involuntary and commanding love in a glory of sound and colors to discover that Ramage was sitting close beside her with one hand resting lightly on her waist. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. " Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson.
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