Spurlock grew cold. . “Yes. As if we didn’t know! The practical trouble is our ages. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. He was staring at her, openly gaping. I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem. Wood and Thames pass him, and followed at a foot's pace behind them.
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