A quarter of an hour passed. . The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. She disengaged her hands and stood up. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. “I hope that it has not done any harm. Pretty good stuff, some of it. Ruth was at that stage where the absorption of facts is great, but where the mental digestion is not quite equal to the task. But why do you ask?" "Because—" stammered the boy. Something seemed awry. Glancing at each other, they rose from their seats and ventured to address the captain.
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