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. Love—admiration for your matchless beauty alone sways me. He had informed her that to leave him would be a choice to live a life of meager subsistence. She cried out with the pain of it. One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets.
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