She had denied it with vigor, and here she was! She did not so much exhaust this general question as pass from it to her insoluble individual problem again: “What am I to do?” She wanted first of all to fling the forty pounds back into Ramage’s face. The condition of the rooms was indescribably filthy and disgusting; nor were the habits of the occupants much more cleanly. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. At one moment, it seemed as if the flying bark was about to put to shore. Double-crossing wouldn't do any good.
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