" "Well," observed Hogarth, "if, fettered as you are, you contrive to break out of this dungeon, you'll do what no man ever did before. Spurlock was by nature orderly, despite his literary activities. Always I have said I will take care of myself, and I have done so. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. But Spurlock was ever on guard, even when she fussed over his hair. Diane suggested to him that he retire early, and he did so agreeably, halfknowing it to be an order. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. They are rather a long way off, but you could write to them.
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