We always go out to dinner on holidays. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. Gosse would have killed me, and perhaps in the fight I might kill him. Her efforts were vain.
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