Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. They found Ruth reading to Spurlock, whose shoulders and head were propped by pillows. "That is easily explained. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. Life waits for us. Only after he had pushed himself completely inside was the friction lessened. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river.
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