"Zounds! what's that!" he cried, as the noise of a scuffle was heard behind them. my first symphony!” Brown’s eyebrows rose skeptically. At first Spurlock tasted coconut in his eggs, in what meat he ate; it permeated everything, taste and smell. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. "Jonathan Wild, I'll be sworn," said Gay. Nor is Theresa, or even Thérèse.
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