CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. His head bent down, intent on kissing her underneath the showerhead. But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. "It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. "That's false!" cried Mrs. \" Lucy said as they ascended the steps.
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