She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. “You will have some tea?” she asked. So long as he lived, Spurlock knew that in fancy he would be reconstructing that scene between himself and Ruth's father. Even that he sleeps, I must give to him my thanks, for he has been excessively brave for me. He thanked God for this talent of his. Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill.
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