Before she passed out she turned and faced Sir John. During the wet monsoon the west beach was always littered. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. True, on board the ships she had watched young men from afar, but only with that normal curiosity which is aroused in the presence of any new species. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. Explain to Sir John our feelings. You are yet a child; and though you have strayed from the right path, a stronger hand than your own has led you thence. So far she had not heard the sound of his voice.
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