She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. " Ruth walked to the companion. Ennison spoke at last. After the sights he would have to twiddle his thumbs until the joints cracked. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. That for you!" And she snapped her fingers in his face. “Was I that bad?” He asked. “Dear me!” he said. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. And Mother trusted him. Wood, in a whisper, as he filled a rummer to the brim, not to forget the health of the Chevalier de Saint George—a proposition to which the lady immediately responded by drinking the toast aloud. But her heart kept on sinking. ” “You said you loved me – did you mean it?” He said. Little by little the pool cleared, the whims vanished: so that both Ruth and the doctor, by the middle of the third week, began to accept Spurlock's actions as normal, whereas there was still a mote or two which declined to settle, still a kink in the gray matter that refused to straighten out.
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