I may as well think. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. She had asked about that already, and her father had replied, evasively: “We’ll have to see about that, little Vee; we’ll have to see about that. There’s something about you, a little flavor of Will, I suppose, that makes one feel—good luck about you and success. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. A young woman with a white badge on her arm stood and counted the sections as they entered their vans. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris. But I’m not a slut either, if that’s what you think. 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. " "I know not how it is," sighed Darrell, "but I feel an unaccountable misgiving at quitting this place. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly.
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