D. But what if she were to marry? He glanced towards the elderly dame and found her watching him, the dimple very much in evidence. You cannot—shall not retreat. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. There was no mistaking his intentions this time. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment.
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