CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. As he balanced the photograph, a humorous twinkle came into his eyes. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. The moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day. " "Lord!—think of having sharks for neighbours? Every morning I'll take a dip into the lagoon. Wood mentions?" inquired Jackson, as soon as the clatter that succeeded Mr. McClintock never threw away any advertising matter; in fact, he openly courted pamphlets; and they came from automobile dealers and great mail-order houses, from haberdashers and tailors and manufacturers of hair-tonics, razors, gloves, shoes, open plumbing. "Not materially, Mr. ” Sheila scolded, but Lucy had invented a dozen reasons why she had to have her own hamper until finally Sheila got tired of it and relented. Ah!" he exclaimed, as his eye fell upon a small knob in the wall, "there's the spring!" He touched it, and the door flew open. "Can't you take me with you?" urged the voice; "I'll make it well worth your while.
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