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Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream. “That’s all. ” “If you dare—I dare,” said Ann Veronica. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt.
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