. ” “But why——” Sir John stopped short. The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. ‘Jacques, you have been very much my friend. ‘Jacques?’ she called. ’ ‘You ain’t never!’ ‘Back to your post, Trodger,’ ordered the harassed captain. He had got here at speed by that means. You know not what a wretched guilty thing I am.
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