“Guineas, of course,” Mr. Anyhow, it were me as got you down to the wetnurse. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. He was standing at the moment close to the hatch, with his ear at the keyhole, and received a severe blow in the face. “You blithering idiot!” he exclaimed. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome. 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.
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