Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. She guessed that he probably slept all of three hours a night at most. "Your servant, Sir Rowland," said the stranger, ducking his head, as he advanced. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. Do not avoid me if we meet by accident, but I trust to you all not to let the accident happen if you can help it. ‘But this is not to my blame, grandpére.
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