White assured her. But when they were on their way out he whispered in Anna’s ear. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. 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. "A man!" "At your service, my dear," replied the jailer.
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