Ruth was strong in body and soul. She fought him with tooth and nail. Three times she escaped. Chairs were overturned. Once she reached the bamboo curtain, clutched at it and tore it down as his arms went around her waist. The third time she escaped she reached the inconsequent barricade of the overturned table.
"If there is any honour in you, stop and think. I love my husband. I love him!" She was weak and dizzy: from horror as much as from physical exertion. She knew that the next time he caught her she would not be able to free herself. "What good would it do you to destroy me? For I have courage to kill myself."
The Wastrel laughed. He had heard this talk before.
The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would be no escape. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda.
"Ruth?"
"Hoddy!" she cried.
Spurlock stepped into the room. One of those hanging moments ensued—hypnotic.
Spurlock had seen Rollo heading for the jungle, and for some reason he could not explain the incident had bothered him. Fretting and fidgeting, he had, after an hour or so, turned to McClintock.
"I'm going back for Ruth."
"Nonsense!"