She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. “Dear me! I wonder what I ought to do. Too close, he reasoned, for safety. His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. “I did it for love of you,” he said. ‘So are you. ” He smiled, and she felt love for him in that moment as the smile lit up his ebony eyes, eyes whose blackness seemed unfathomable. ‘What a fate he finds for me. And catching hold of Thames, he quitted the deck.
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