There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present. “No man can realize,” she said, “what that pit can be. Little by little the pool cleared, the whims vanished: so that both Ruth and the doctor, by the middle of the third week, began to accept Spurlock's actions as normal, whereas there was still a mote or two which declined to settle, still a kink in the gray matter that refused to straighten out. We hide it bravely, but so it is. Wood's," said the latter, "since I find him at his own gate. We close the chapter. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. Rather a magniloquent term, perhaps, but what else am I to say? One of these is that the most absolutely selfish thing in the world is to give way to depression, to think of one’s troubles at all except of how to overcome them.
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