He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. He was a large oafish man, a man that seemed deceptively harmless, and some thought him slightly retarded. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. “The wrappered life-discipline! One comes to that at last. The stranger concluded he could not be far from his destination, and a turn in the road showed him the house. “I feel shabby and disgraced. I sha'n't utter a word. “Now you look happy. " Spurlock lowered his voice.
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