The conceit of Howard Spurlock in imagining he knew what mental suffering was! But Enschede was right: Ruth must never know. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. " "What'll it cost to have you all to myself for the day?" Ah Cum named the sum. Miss Miniver looked out on the world through large emotional blue eyes that were further magnified by the glasses she wore, and her nose was pinched and pink, and her mouth was whimsically petulant. “My chief,” he said, “took it into his head to have an impromptu dinner party.
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