She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated. He bowed over her hand, venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface. "His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. "What is it?" "Can't you see? Together, down there; you and I!… As my wife! Both of us, never to be lonely again!… Will you marry me, Ruth?" As many a wiser woman had done, Ruth mistook thrilling eagerness for love. ” “We will go together,” she answered.
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