” She said, ignoring the absurdity of her own statement. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good. Spurlock snatched the check out of Ruth's hands and ran to the window. ‘That is what she wants, is it?’ ‘Do you blame her?’ he said stiffly. “I have had a trying evening and I need rest. I am an old friend, and I declined to be shelved. Heaven will not permit the continuance of such wickedness as you practise. She looked at the suitcase sadly and stashed it underneath her bed.
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