But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. The very old lady in the antimacassar touched Ann Veronica’s arm suddenly, and said, in a deep, arch voice: “Talking of love again; spring again, love again. Mr. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Is there nothing you do not know?’ she asked faintly. Her likeness to her sister gave him at first almost a shock; a moment afterwards he was conscious of a wonderful sense of relief. What she actually wanted was the present state of affairs to continue indefinitely. It might as well be Melusine herself. Have you suffered?" "Dear God!… every hour since!" "The Spurlock conscience. Glad to get back, I’m sure,” he said briskly. "If I thought he lived——" observed Wood. Mr. He flung aside all his talk of help and disinterested friendship as though it had never been even a disguise between them, as though from the first it was no more than a fancy dress they had put quite understandingly upon their relationship. .
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