Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. All right! I’m off. Amongst them was a revolver. But all these hours, trying to teach the child wariness toward life, and the moment his back was turned, this! He was, perhaps, still dazed by the inner revelation—his own interest in Ruth. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back.
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