Surely she could ignore him. She turned a resolute face southward. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. ’ Le Petit Journal said that the man was dead. Finally she decided upon a step that had always seemed reasonable to her, but that hitherto she had, from motives too faint for her to formulate, refrained from taking. She hated living like that. Here was the same Ruth who had left him a few minutes since: the same outwardly; and yet…! On the ninth day Spurlock was up and about; that is, he was strong enough to walk alone, from the companion to his chair, to lean upon the rail when the chair grew irksome, to join Ruth and his employer at lunch and dinner: strong enough to argue about books, music, paintings. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. She was fiercely and bitterly jealous.
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