After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. 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. He was now at the entrance of the chapel, and striking the door over which he had previously climbed a violent blow with the bar, it flew open. But we’ve got the brains to get over that, and tongues in our heads to talk to each other.
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