So Ruth returned to her room and sorted the books and magazines the doctor had loaned her, inspected the titles and searched for pictures. Couldn’t fit it inside, but the horse’s blanket lay over it, and, like I said, as long as no one rides him and don’t remove the blanket, I think it’ll stay hid. Hang it, there must be something about her that will give it away. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. ’ He became aware of his friend’s face before him. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind.
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