Was it not stranger than words could tell that such a man as John Mark should be sitting in this almost public place and pouring his soul out into the ear of a girl?
"I shall tell you," said Mark, his voice softening.

"I have contributed half of it to charity." Her lips, compressed with doubt, parted in wonder.

"Charity!" she exclaimed.
"And the other half," he went on, "I deposited in a bank to the credit of a fictitious personality.

That fictitious personality is, in flesh and blood, Ruth Tolliver with a new name.

You understand?
I have only to hand you the bank book with the list of deposits, and you can step out of this Tolliver personality and appear in a new part of the world as another being.