CHAPTER XXXI. “You were going to answer it?” “Certainly not!” she said deliberately. “I believed that he was the great multi-millionaire. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. His new wife’s face was sweet and angelic with hair the color of flax, her belly already visibly large beneath a roe skin pelt. She tried for her usual confident tone, but only succeeded in sounding gruff, even to her own ears. Once more he begged; but as Ruth only repeated her sharp command, he spun about and raced toward the jungle. Well, he was executed for murder. The shouts, yells, and groans which they uttered, and which were echoed by the concourse in the rear, were perfectly frightful.
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