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Ruth had lived in a world without caresses. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of
wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was
drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. ‘You were right, miss. "Why?
Because I love her! Because I loved her at the start, but was too big a fool to
know it!"
His own astonishment was quite equal to McClintock's. Her
figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue
eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. “Queer
letters he writes,” she said. And if he
won’t—”
But she did not give even unspoken words to the alternative at that time. Why hadn't he gone on with the girl's
story? What instinct had stuffed it back into his throat? Why the inexplicable
impulse to hurry this rather pathetic derelict on his way?
CHAPTER XV
Previous to his illness, Spurlock's mind had been tortured by an appalling worry,
so that now, in the process of convalescence, it might be compared to a pool
which had been violently stirred: there were indications of subsidence, but there
were still strange forms swirling on the surface—whims and fancies which in
normal times would never have risen above sub-consciousness. She stabbed him with
her canines.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 26-06-2024 23:57:12