THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
understood, or that the doctor had quietly informed the office of the circumstances. We let him work because if he didn't have something to occupy his hands he would have fallen ill from sheer worry. He'd got the idea that in this part of the world nobody trusted any one. Well, we don't, everybody. But all we had to do was to look into his eyes."
The nurse, after freshening up Ruth's pillow, went back into the bedroom to make the bed.
From the rickshaw-stand in the court below the veranda Ruth could hear the Chinese boys laughing and talking in their queer gutturals. Occasionally one hailed a prospective passenger. From the sea came the deep-throated warning of an approaching steamer. Ruth stared at the fingers of her left hand. All the puzzling mysteries vanished, all the cobwebs of doubt blew away. She was married. She was Mrs. William Grogan.
Invalids are always the most selfish of individuals. Being an invalid Ruth thought of herself only, her misery, the whole dreary failure she had made of life. And God had not been kind enough to let her die! Married! She was Mrs. William Grogan. He had taken advantage of her helplessness, her mental unbalance, for when she had left that hideous place in Malay Street she had not been strictly accountable for her subsequent acts. Mrs. Grogan!
She barely noticed him when he came in that night. He attributed her demeanor to weariness. He was not especially quick-witted to-night; his
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