Stanley determined to improve the occasion. "The long and the short o' the matter's this then," returned Sharples with dignity, "the Markis begs your acceptance o' ten guineas to drink his health. The man Hill has persecuted me for months—ever since I have been in England. I never have known you. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. He might be unfortunate, but he would scarcely be a fool. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. “Ohmigod, Katy, you fucking killed her!” A trio of girls sniggered. “No!” he said aloud at last.
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