” “If he has a key,” Ennison said, “how are you to be safe?” “I had bolts fitted on the doors yesterday,” she answered. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet. Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt.
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