She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. "I'll have my cot in here," said Spurlock to Ruth, "where this table is. It's kind of comforting to have you there. White’s,” she said, “and if he is going to persist in this delusion, we cannot both remain here. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. Superimposed was the agitating thought of what would follow the death of this unwelcome guest: confusion, poking authorities, British and American red tape.
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