” “As long as you remain under my roof—” he began, and paused. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. Give me your staff. And they admired Kent sedulously from the windows. I seek chaos, but not out of choice. Yet the thing hidden within her called and called. It was a night of storm and terror, which promised each moment to become more stormy and more terrible. She had viewed them askance, and without exchanging ideas with any one else in the world about them. “I will tell you the truth.
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