The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. That suggested delicacy; and yet her young body was strong and vital. Spurlock stared at Ruth across the rim of his bowl. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. “I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction.
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