CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. “I wish you didn’t. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. "Mr. . F. Miching Mallecho. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. She frowned, appearing to think for a moment.
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