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. Anybody in pain had only to call to him. In a second the glass lay shattered upon the carpet. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. For a short time they allowed me to share the warmth of their lives. Mild, you know, and boon. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night. Ann Veronica had been an ardent hockey player and had had a course of jiu-jitsu in the High School. “Lucy, I have to talk to you. "Do not shed more blood," cried the carpenter.
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