Which was the dream and which the reality?
that distant life, or this?
His moans rang more clearly in her ears than the buzzing of the conversation between Mrs Bradshaw and Miss Benson.
At length the subdued, scared-looking little lady and her bright-eyed silent daughter rose to take leave; Ruth started into the present, and stood up and curtseyed, and turned sick at heart with sudden recollection.
Miss Benson accompanied Mrs Bradshaw to the door; and in the passage gave her a long explanation of Ruth's (fictitious) history.

Mrs Bradshaw looked so much interested and pleased, that Miss Benson enlarged a little more than was necessary, and rounded off her invention with one or two imaginary details, which, she was quite unconscious, were overheard by her brother through the half-open study door.
She was rather dismayed when he called her into his room after Mrs Bradshaw's departure, and asked her what she had been saying about Ruth?
"Oh! I thought it was better to explain it thoroughly--I mean, to tell the story we wished to have believed once for all--you know we agreed about that, Thurstan ?" deprecatingly.
"Yes; but I heard you saying you believed her husband had been a young surgeon, did I not ?" "Well, Thurstan, you know he must have been something; and young surgeons are so in the way of dying, it seemed very natural.
Besides," said she, with sudden boldness, "I do think I've a talent for fiction, it is so pleasant to invent, and make the incidents dovetail together; and after all, if we are to tell a lie, we may as well do it thoroughly, or else it's of no use.

A bungling lie would be worse than useless.

And, Thurstan--it may be very wrong--but I believe--I am afraid I enjoy not being fettered by truth.

Don't look so grave.