Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where, Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy. And I’m off to America, and if my steamer goes to the bottom of the Atlantic I’ll thank the Lord for it. CHAPTER XII. 101 He was a delightful teacher.
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