He was made welcome as McClintock’s agent; but he politely declined all the proffered courtesies.  Getting back the ice was rather a serious affair.  He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—­all she could carry—­and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock’s bamboo-covered sawdust pit.  This ice was used for refrigerator purposes and for McClintock’s evening peg.

Ruth with Rollo as her guide explored the island.  In the heart of the jungle the dog had his private muck baths.  Into one of these he waded and rolled and rolled, despite her commands.  At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws.  In the presence of the husband of his mistress Rollo was always dignifiedly cheerful, but he never leaped or cavorted as he did when alone with Ruth.

Spurlock was fond of dogs; he was fond of this offspring of many mesalliances; but he never made any attempt to win Rollo, to share him.  The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods.  He filled the role of comrade which Spurlock dared not enact, at least not utterly as he would have liked.  Yes—­as he would have liked.

For Ruth grew lovelier as the days went on.  She was as lovely in the spirit as in the flesh.  Her moods were many and always striking.  She was never violent when angry:  she became as calm and baffling as the sea in doldrums.  She never grew angry for anything her husband did:  such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—­Spurlock’s study.

She formed a habit which embarrassed Spurlock greatly, but at first he dared not complain.  She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work.  One night she apparently fell asleep.  He could not permit her to remain in that position.  So, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed.  The moment he was out in the hall, Ruth sat up hugging and rocking her body in delight.  This charming episode was repeated three times.  Then he sensed the trap.

“Ruth, you must not come and sit on the threshold.  I can’t concentrate on my work.  It doesn’t annoy me; it only disturbs me.  I can’t help looking at you frequently.  You don’t want me to spoil the story, do you?”

“No.  But it’s so wonderful to watch you!  Whenever you have written something beautiful, your face shows it.”

“I know; but ...”

“And sometimes you say out loud:  ‘That’s great stuff!’ I never make any sound.”

“But it is the sight of you!”

“All right, Hoddy.  I promise not to do it again.”  She rose.  “Good night.”

He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest.  He had hurt her.  But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms ...!