This is simply a chapter of coincidences. “What else was I to do?” For some seconds she stood watching him and both were thinking very quickly. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. Spurlock knew exactly what he was doing, however: speculative mischief, to see how she would act. "I'll pledge you in that toast with all my heart.
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