5. ” “You are going to speak to me of things which happened before we met in London?” she asked quietly. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. ” “Don’t be foolish,” he said sharply. I’ll do it. There were shadows under his eyes. ” The detective turned again to Anna. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force. He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. She loved to be told to do things. The night before they made McClintock's Ruth and Spurlock leaned over the rail, their shoulders touching. Squire and master. What Miss Miniver would have called the Higher Truth supervenes.
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