” “Upon my word,” he declared, “you are right. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. Ruth was something to study for future copy; she was almost unbelievable. Was there no echo anywhere in Miss Stanley’s pacified brain? Those empty rooms, if they were empty, were the equivalents of astoundingly decorated predecessors. ’ Gerald frowned. "What is this?" she wanted to know. But here I am to draw upon. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait.
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