Earles strode into the waiting-room. He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. ‘Eh bien, you are not like Leonardo. On the second day out he was helped to a steamer-chair on deck; on the third day, his arm across Ruth's shoulder, he walked from his chair to the foremast and back. She pulled him down by his lapels and arched her head readily towards his neck. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. "Take my life, if you're so disposed.
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