A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. ’ ‘Unless it is Captain Roding,’ put in Lucilla Froxfield from the curved back sofa on the other side of the fireplace. Almost had Martha won out. Through a blur of tears Ruth followed the rocking light until it vanished. He drew a little breath and stepped back.
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