One day she had thrown all the gifts into the lagoon, and visited the secret nook no more. I sent a message straight. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. Almost simultaneously they burst out laughing. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were. And you’d better have her fetch in some food for the missie, an’ all. " "No," said Ruth, pulling back.
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