He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. " "You did not hear her when she spoke to her father; I did. And I have seen work by his pupils myself that struck me as being—well, next door to shameful. ‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. She had not even endorsed it. Two women entered and sat down at the adjoining table. So, not exactly hopefully but earnestly, she returned to the feet of God. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study.
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