He did not love Ruth. And yet—Wait a little, you’d better have every bit of it. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. Once he had managed to stake his claim, she would have all to do to prove her identity and win it back. “Not possible. ‘I broke in. Retract your words instantly, or take the consequences. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. The conceit of Howard Spurlock in imagining he knew what mental suffering was! But Enschede was right: Ruth must never know. She met him by the dugout after the game. The carpet was a quiet drugget and not excessively worn, and the bed in the corner was covered by a white quilt. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness.
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