CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. “I don’t know, John, but I think there is something going on with Michelle. She exited solemnly, retrieving and carrying Michelle’s unconscious figure into the forest like a reluctant bridegroom. A narrow entry, formed by two low walls, communicated with the main thoroughfare; and in this passage, under the cover of a penthouse, stood Wood, with his little burthen, to whom we shall now return. The very facts that Miss Miniver never stated an argument clearly, that she was never embarrassed by a sense of self-contradiction, and had little more respect for consistency of statement than a washerwoman has for wisps of vapor, which made Ann Veronica critical and hostile at their first encounter in Morningside Park, became at last with constant association the secret of Miss Miniver’s growing influence.
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