The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. And now she was discovering that even Nature was something of a liar, with her mirages and her horizons. He nodded silently, too full for words. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. . Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. He was disquieted.
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