Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck. He turned his back on that temptation. Suddenly he came to a stop, his mouth agape. But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. There was a hint of tears in her voice. Why had Ruth married him? A penniless outcast, for she must have known he was that. ‘I do not know him. A pity, en effet, that she dare not truly desire him to rescue her. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. Rowland felt himself sinking beneath the powerful grasp of his enemy.
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