She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. He grabbed her hair viciously and whispered loudly into her tear-streaked face. Little by little the pool cleared, the whims vanished: so that both Ruth and the doctor, by the middle of the third week, began to accept Spurlock's actions as normal, whereas there was still a mote or two which declined to settle, still a kink in the gray matter that refused to straighten out. They entered a hansom and turned on to the Embankment. She became aware that at regular intervals a light flashed upon her face and a bodiless eye regarded her, and this, as the night wore on, became a torment.
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