Somebody tricked you back yonder—baited you for spite. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. My dear—I can call you that here, anyhow—I know that. 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. Gerald glanced at Hilary and saw the stunned look on his face. "What did the old fellow judge from, eh, Joan?" asked he. It’s no good hiding it any more. I was in the front row, and I fancied she smiled at me. Better check on Remenham House, I suppose.
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