Spurlock began to watch for Ruth's coming in the morning; first, with negligent interest, then with positive eagerness. When the bell rang, she lagged behind as was her habit. Just this? Parbleu, did he think this was enough? She did not wish to marry him—at least, not just because he was an Englishman. Already the seed of a tender dream was stirring. The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean. “I can talk to you and you to me without a scrap of effort,” said Capes; “that’s the essence of it. “So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. ‘Oh, I do love a flatterer.
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