Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. Her mind went on generalizing. It had felt wonderful to pick up the fiddle again. The girl regarded him with the face of a Sphinx. In this room was my ruin begun: in this room it should be ended. The thought of beauty became an obsession. And this utter stranger … loved him! He had no reason to doubt McClintock's statement; the Scot had solved the riddle why Ruth Enschede had married Howard Spurlock. I made the pies. The militia offered little in the way of relief.
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