"No, I won't hear you, murderer," rejoined Wood. ‘If you imagine you’re going
to use one ungentlemanly act to manipulate me, you very much mistake the
matter. ]
CHAPTER VIII
Slowly Ruth entered her own room. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated,
glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very
civil salutation. But something
instinctive prevented that, and with the finest resolve not to be “silly” and
prudish she found that whenever he became at all bold in this matter she became
severely scientific and impersonal, almost entomological indeed, in her method;
she killed every remark as he made it and pinned it out for examination. The boat rocked violently with the struggle. She was aware of
people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors—
moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the
dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. The man
Hill has persecuted me for months—ever since I have been in England. There are, then, in this sorry world, people who can be
disinterestedly kind!"
The doctor laughed, gave Spurlock's shoulder a pat, and left the room. "My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with
increased merriment. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty
curtain cloud.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 14-07-2024 00:03:14