Ireton; for may I be hanged myself if I don't believe he'll be as good as his word. “I wouldn’t. 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. The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless.
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