Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. The conceit of Howard Spurlock in imagining he knew what mental suffering was! But Enschede was right: Ruth must never know. She got up early, and walked about the garden in the dewy June sunshine and revived her childhood. . It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her. ’ ‘Yes,’ she agreed, but her manner was a degree less warm. " "That's reasonable.
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