It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. Like the flaws of an old marble. She sensed he might try and wane on her doorstep. 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. I swear it. I am sure. There was only one small grated window in this hold, which admitted but little light. "There is something in The Tale of Two Cities that is wonderful," she said.
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