And this utter stranger … loved him! He had no reason to doubt McClintock's statement; the Scot had solved the riddle why Ruth Enschede had married Howard Spurlock. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No. She felt surges of longing escape every corner of her flesh. She is something different. " "Your husband?" "No. The City worried him a good deal, and what energy he had left over he spent partly in golf, a game he treated very seriously, and partly in the practices of microscopic petrography. Her new husband was pleased to watch the astonished look on her face as tray after tray appeared on the grand table, each better than the next. " And he pointed significantly to the hand. They are used to me, they only cry because they have become so used to being here. A couple of gilt straight-backed chairs only. I don't want her hurt. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. "You are my prisoner. The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair.
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