So long as he lived, Spurlock knew that in fancy he would be reconstructing that scene between himself and Ruth's father. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. But I've stacks of books and a grand piano-player. For you know that I have made up my mind to dig a little way into life single-handed. “He will probably make a statement to-night. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands.
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