She assumed with a kind of mesmeric force all the propositions that Ann Veronica wanted her to define. Something forbade him to draw her toward him and seal the compact with a kiss. 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. “It was a phase,” she said. On the other hand, there was a subconscious impression that she would be able to read instantly anything unclean in a man's eye. My father died a year ago, by the way.
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