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. He saw her young and graceful back as she descended from the carriage, severely ignoring him, and recalled a glimpse he had of her face, bright and serene, as his train ran out of Wimbledon. The girl was in the game now, and that narrowed the circle. Sebastian's arms were about her, his fists pumping her stomach as she coughed forth saltwater from her belly and lungs. He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope. Nasty, damp passages.
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