If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city. Every care had been taken of it, as well as of himself, by the humane inmates of the house in which he had sought shelter. Even if you didn’t know it. Almost had Martha won out. I said, that day at Surbiton, ‘There’s many good things in life, but there’s only one best, and that’s the wild-haired girl who’s pulling away at that oar.
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