The conceit of Howard Spurlock in imagining he knew what mental suffering was! But Enschede was right: Ruth must never know. The blades on the top spun faster and faster. She shuddered. As if it were she, and not Melusine, who had been hurt by the imposters. ‘And your schooling?’ he pursued. Under another name,—not my own hateful one,—I will strive to distinguish myself in some foreign service, and win myself a reputation, or perish honourably. “No,” she answered, reluctantly. "Thank you; but I've a pocket full of water-chestnuts.
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