Somehow to-night—I don’t know. "I'll have my cot in here," said Spurlock to Ruth, "where this table is. "What is a sing-song girl?" she asked. I spent my fair share of time in the closet. Then the foremost bowed and passed on. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. You belong to me, and I have waited long enough. She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand.
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