Her faith in human beings revived. "Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly. " As he spoke, the door of the round-house was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold. The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal. His hands reached under her skirt. ’ ‘I don’t know,’ confessed Gerald. He wondered if, after all, McClintock wasn't nearest the truth, that Ruth was one of those unfortunate yet innocent women who make havoc with the hearts of men. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently.
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