CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. A young woman with a white badge on her arm stood and counted the sections as they entered their vans. Besides these plunderers, there were others with whom the disposal of their pillage necessarily brought them into contact, and who seldom failed to attend them during their hours of relaxation and festivity;—to wit, dealers in junk, old rags, and marine stores, purchasers of prize-money, crimps, and Jew receivers. I’m not Gerald, remember. Gerald crossed back to the window. His age was not far from fifty.
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