And the sergeant, having carried out all Melusine’s instructions as if they had come out of his own head, went up to check on his patient, apparently at last convinced that his prisoner would not attempt to run away. He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. ’ “Crude, I admit. Was he, too, on the way to the beach? What a pity! All alone, and none to warn him of the abject wretchedness at the end of Drink. He filled his pipe slowly. I expect you had been snubbing him terribly. .
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