" "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. " "Is the sloop ready to sail?" asked Wild, without noticing the skipper's remark. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. " Her son complied, and sat down upon the patch-work coverlet beside her. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. Did he not look for her in the morning when she entered—come very quickly to her? She thought of him as she had last seen him looking down the length of the laboratory to see her go. ‘Help yourself, Hilary. “These are the playgrounds of life.
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