CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. Wanting his coat, when he must have known that the pockets were empty! But the effort to talk had cost him something. He seemed to be about to move toward her. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. Thought she was a nun at first. You know that, and I know that, though we might be put to it to find a reason why. His own peculiar genius—a miracle key to the hidden things in men's souls—had given him this immediate and astonishing illumination.
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