" "Let me touch you, then; let me feel if you are really flesh and blood," cried the poor maniac, creeping towards him on all fours. 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. Everything was done in the most legal and imposing way, but the whole thing was a fraud. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. Everybody seemed greatly concerned about the sincerity of Tolstoy. " "For you!" exclaimed Jonathan; "don't flatter yourself that I'm thinking of you. " The head turnkey, in all probability, would have obeyed.
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