Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. "Enough," said Jack, recovering his composure. He might miss at this distance. She could have dined alone in her room; but courage had demanded that she face the ordeal and have done with it. "You read it, Ruth. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. I do not intend to be married, or to become engaged just at present.
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