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Wood. Up to dinner yesterday I did not expect to come to Canton. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. I don’t want to influence you unduly—But—They’re artistic people, Vee. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. " "I'd rather lie here for ever, than be indebted to you for my freedom," returned Thames. McClintock laughed as he gave the letter to Ruth. It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. Wood, who maintained stoutly, that if Thames had been led to do wrong, it must be through the instrumentality of his worthless companion.
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