I——” The door was thrown open. Myn Got! haanging runs in some families, Muntmeester. “But I must, I will,” he answered fiercely. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. In fact, the whole face had undergone a transformation. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. It was an odd room, used principally for the reception of guests and visiting dignitaries, packed from end to end with ill-assorted sofas and padded chairs. “I was already aware of the fact.
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