"I am glad you think that," she replied. “Suppose I chuck it,” she remarked, standing with the mauve slip in her hand —“suppose I chuck it, and surrender and go home! Perhaps, after all, Roddy was right! “Father keeps opening the door and shutting it, but a time will come— “I could still go home!” She held Ramage’s check as if to tear it across. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. There was no one stirring in the flats. But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded. I swear it. Satisfied in this respect, he flung himself into a chair, for his iron frame seldom required the indulgence of a bed, and sought an hour's repose before he began the villanies of another day.
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