A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. You need have no apprehensions about him, Sir Rowland. The agony on the sands now ceased to puzzle her. Look at me, and answer me one question. It is true that I do not love Ruth; but I swear to you, before the God of my fathers, that she shall never know it!" "I'll be getting along.
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