"But you are tired!"
"I want to go over the story again."
"Mr. McClintock liked it."
"He couldn't help it, Ruth. It's big, thanks to you."
"You…. need me a little?"
"Not a little, but a great deal."
That satisfied something of her undefined hunger. She went to her bedroom, but she did not go to bed. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. By and by she heard the screen door. Hollo rumbled in his throat.
"Hush!" she said.
Presently she saw Spurlock on the way to the lagoon. He walked with bent head. After quarter of an hour, she followed.
The unexpected twist—his disclosure to McClintock—had given Spurlock but temporary relief. The problem had returned, made gigantic by the possibility of Ruth's love. The thought allured him, and therein lay the danger. If it were but the question of his reason for marrying her, the solution would have been simple. But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. On that basis alone, he had no right to give or accept love.