It was, in fact, a group of interests quite unlike any other group, peculiar and special, and one to be thoroughly ashamed of. Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. While waiting for his coming she had stated her present and future relations with him with what had seemed to her the most satisfactory lucidity and completeness. Stir a foot, and I strike. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. After a certain amount of manœuvring, however, he was induced to crawl around, and in a few minutes came to stop again before a tall brightly-painted house, which seemed like an oasis of colour and assertive prosperity in a long dingy row.
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