" In the living room Spurlock's glance was constantly drawn toward Ruth; but in fear that she might sense something wrong, he walked over to the piano and struck a few chords. She came very near that night to resolving that she would return to her home next morning. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. Conscience drove him to this side of the world, to this bed. She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. Wood; "and I did so to see how far your effrontery would carry you.
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