Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. Here was the same Ruth who had left him a few minutes since: the same outwardly; and yet…! On the ninth day Spurlock was up and about; that is, he was strong enough to walk alone, from the companion to his chair, to lean upon the rail when the chair grew irksome, to join Ruth and his employer at lunch and dinner: strong enough to argue about books, music, paintings. ” “But how? It has only been a few days!” “She’s not even here. He seemed to do ten things before she could think to do one, to leap upon her and take possession. They WERE weird. ” “Ay,” he repeated, looking away from her. “His stipend forbade it,” she said, and seemed to fall into a train of thought. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. Why had Ruth married him? A penniless outcast, for she must have known he was that. This double buffetting had sharpened her shrewdness and insight.
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