"Set your prisoner free!" returned Wood. ‘That is better, no?’ ‘Dieu. Yet she held her tongue. That might happen on her birthday—in August. Perhaps you’ve heard—?’ Well, you know, he had. His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. He had meant to come at his business in a roundabout way, but for that little slip. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice. pglaf.
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