"I'll have my cot in here," said Spurlock to Ruth, "where this table is. " He started to pick up a sheet of manuscript, but she pushed him from the table toward the doorway; and he staggered out of the bungalow, suddenly stretched his arms, and broke into a trot. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. "Then, the story of his death was false. " "But what is it?" "An American university. There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas. "After all, he is my father, Hoddy; and I cursed him.
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