" "On that night, you first met me, love," said Edgeworth Bess, endeavouring to take his hand, which he coldly withdrew. "It is useless," replied Mrs. CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. ’ With pretty imperiousness, she gestured to the bed beside her. He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant. She infused menace into her voice. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. He did not explain what had happened to her. She described the Goopes and the Fabians to him, and gave him a sketch of her landlady; and he talked in the most liberal and entertaining way of a modern young woman’s outlook.
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