The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. “Election be hanged!” he exclaimed. Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. “Like a stab. ’ ‘She told you!’ ‘And,’ pursued Gerald, ignoring his friend’s scornful interjection, ‘that it was not always convenient to be dressed as a young girl. ‘There you have soldiers.
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