" "I should like a little of that plum-tart," said Mrs. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. It seems to me very silly. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. To reach it would be a most difficult undertaking.
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