" At luncheon, preoccupied in thought, Spurlock did not notice the pallor on Ruth's cheeks or the hunted look in her eyes. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. ’ He looked the girl up and down. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be his restrained and dignified friend. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. But all this business has driven it clean out of my head. Where is he?" "Here," answered Jack. ” “Yeah, I think she hates you, hon. " "But why didn't you oppose him?" "I had to let him have his way, else he might not have returned safely. But you are Annabel.
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