Already Cosette was her chosen friend. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. ” He looked at Lucy. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. Ruth out of the picture, he wouldn't have concerned himself so eagerly in regard to Spurlock's departure. A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them.
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