He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. I told him the truth. Reconnoitring them through a small grated loophole, he refused to open the door till they had explained their business. He stepped quickly towards her. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. "This she-devil has got hold of the sack. I really must leave you now. Spurling, you're a witness to the bet. Everything goes—the copra for oil, the fibre of the husk for rope, and the shell for carbon.
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