Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. " "What's the meaning of all this?" demanded Sir Cecil. The day was sunny and pleasant, devoid of chill winds. It will be his interest to do so. It was, in his opinion, the most astonishing letter he had ever read. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning.
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