” He dabbed with his paper-weight again, and spoke in an entirely indifferent tone. Cathy reached out and touched Lucy’s chin with her two fingers, gently commanding her attention. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. The conceit of Howard Spurlock in imagining he knew what mental suffering was! But Enschede was right: Ruth must never know. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. "Let me see the earth thrown over her," implored Jack; "and take me where you please.
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