“I wonder!” said Miss Stanley. He wondered if, after all, McClintock wasn't nearest the truth, that Ruth was one of those unfortunate yet innocent women who make havoc with the hearts of men. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. He had absorbed her in a single glance, and was now defining her as he worked. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. There is something sensual in the thought of lotus flowers. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. “How did you hear that?” Lucy’s brows knitted.
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