He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. How little he knew about Ruth—the background from which she had sprung! He knew that her father was a missioner, that her mother was dead, that she had been born on this island, and that, at the time of his collapse, she had been on the way to an aunt in the States. "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble. I was—I was a corespondent. Little by little Sebastian gave to her the story of how she came to be abducted. ‘And me?’ ‘Oh, you’re mad because you wish to blow off my head. I've seen many a clever cracksman, but never one like him.
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