‘Keep your distance! You dare to tell me I cannot refuse?’ He glared at the girl. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. He groaned, much to Melusine’s relief. He would never recognize me now. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. Little by little the pool cleared, the whims vanished: so that both Ruth and the doctor, by the middle of the third week, began to accept Spurlock's actions as normal, whereas there was still a mote or two which declined to settle, still a kink in the gray matter that refused to straighten out. Good night.
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