“Where have you been? All these hours I have been calling for you. Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. “Why don’t you?” “Well, it might mean rather a row. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. Suspicion was in his face.
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