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. " "Oh!" Ruth laughed softly. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. He thought of his severe attitude towards the girl who was rightly and with contempt refusing his measured help. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. And the way he and the other men looked at her! The desire was plain on their faces, so many noblemen reduced to their simplest elements! They looked at her sideways, they looked at her backside, scanning her blue eyes and even looking right into her face. But a man is a mixed creature.
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