CHAPTER XIX. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. " "You cannot help yourself, Sir Rowland," replied Jonathan, contemptuously. There, in a little tea and sweetstuff shop, she bought and consumed slowly and absent-mindedly the insufficient nourishment that is natural to her sex on such occasions. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. ” Michelle said. How little he knew about Ruth—the background from which she had sprung! He knew that her father was a missioner, that her mother was dead, that she had been born on this island, and that, at the time of his collapse, she had been on the way to an aunt in the States.
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