Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. Then Courtlaw looked across at her with a white puzzled face. There was only one clean spot in the picture—the ship's wash (all white) that fluttered on a line stretched between the two masts. “I have always,” she admitted calmly, “taken a certain amount of interest in Annabel’s future. Good heavens! She was discussing love-making. After all, why should I care what strangers think?" Ruth asked with sudden heat.
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