She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. That is the dreadful truth. His father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps. ’ ‘I presume you were not with her in France?’ Kimble stared. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. It isn’t illusions—for us. Then, in a few years, he and Ruth might fare forth in comfort and security. He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall. This did not affect Spurlock.
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