" "It matters not what I think," replied Wild. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault. ’ ‘He does not call himself my father, for he calls himself nothing at all,’ Melusine told him, her tone violent with fury.
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