No one hears it but the young doctor, for the attention of all the others is at that time directed elsewhere.
This time the object of her scorn does not flush, but turns very white, as he looks her steadily in the eyes.
"I am sorry you have such a poor opinion of me, Lady Ruth.

I make no apologies, save the one that my life is too valuable--to others, to myself--to throw it away at the mere caprice of a girl." "There is a gentleman who finds a way to accomplish what he wants.

Take a lesson from him, Doctor Chicago," she says.
Colonel Lionel has noticed a long pole near by, in the end of which is a cleft.

This he has secured, and, by crawling as far as is safe along the face of the rock, he is enabled to just reach the flower.
After a number of ineffectual lunges he succeeds in clutching the coveted article in the cleft of the pole, and draws it toward him.
A moment later he presents the flower to Lady Ruth, with a smile and a bow.
"No English lady ever expressed a wish that a British officer did not feel bound in honor to grant," he says.
The girl thanks him, and then says: "After all, the flower was prettier at a distance than when in my hands." Colonel Lionel hardly knows whether he has made such a huge advance over his rival after all.
The afternoon sun is waning.
"We must go down," declares Aunt Gwen.
"One more look around and I am ready," says Lady Ruth.
Already she is sorry for her cruel words.

Like the best of women, she can wound at one moment and be contrite the next.