" "I, a thief?" "Aye; thief, Roundhead and all. ’ He grimaced. Then the storm broke. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. They do not come for me, to find me and bring me home. Her head ached with a hollow pain. 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. Voilà tout.
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