Her confession was still unmade. She sought hastily in her mind for a plausible answer to an obvious question that didn’t come. One cannot trust any man at all. " "Bless you for it. Ramage. I can’t stand it. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. On his third visit to the island she had surprised him, that is, she had glanced up suddenly and caught the look of the beast in his eyes.
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