For a moment her heart seemed to stop beating. Spurlock stared at Ruth across the rim of his bowl. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. In the bad light he looked at once military and sentimental and studious, like one of Ouida’s guardsmen revised by Mr.
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