But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention. "Saved!" "Ay, ay, it's all bob, my covey! You're safe enough, that's certain!" responded the Minters, baying, yelping, leaping, and howling around him like a pack of hounds when the huntsman is beating cover; "but, where are the lurchers?" "Who?" asked Wood. Not even, it seemed, this interfering monsieur le major. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. Nigel! You have not forgotten.
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