The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth. Little by little the pool cleared, the whims vanished: so that both Ruth and the doctor, by the middle of the third week, began to accept Spurlock's actions as normal, whereas there was still a mote or two which declined to settle, still a kink in the gray matter that refused to straighten out. Disappointment flickered in Gerald’s chest, and he did not hesitate to speak his mind, unable to help a reproachful note. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine.
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