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. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. It means. “Oh, but life is difficult!” she groaned. Always as black and bitter as gall. The two great hotels on their right were still ablaze with lights. She leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations. It did not shock her; it amazed her, interested her beyond measure. He looked at her reproachfully.
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