Even now I do not understand. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. There was a sharp knocking at the outside door. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. “It is very, very difficult,” she continued, looking steadfastly at the ground. This time they would call it murder. A little exclamation of surprise escaped Ennison. "Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together.
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