“More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. "I didn't mean to give offence," replied Sheppard, sulkily. You don’t want to look like Bozo. But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. I consented to become Mrs. They vanished through the doorway. None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing.
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