I don’t want to Bowdlerize Shakespeare. I shall borrow it and apply it to you, Hilary. A white man takes his life in his hands. " At luncheon, preoccupied in thought, Spurlock did not notice the pallor on Ruth's cheeks or the hunted look in her eyes. " "Why not?" "I am a thief, a hunted man. Do not disquiet yourself. It’s kind of the World War II thing. The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold. “I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John. Wood. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. Her mind left her. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force.
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