All her pride raged at me. I want you to think of me just as if I was a man, and quite outside marriage altogether. You are all that I am or hope to be—the celestial atom God put into me at the beginning. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. Can you lend me some stuff?” “You ARE a chap!” said Constance, and warmed only slowly from the idea of dissuasion to the idea of help. Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded man. Something unpardonable is laid to my charge.
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