But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. There was nothing to be got out of the man. She wants that and needs it more than anything else in the world. Be a sport, and pile it all on me!" He went to bed. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. Why? Because Howard Spurlock the author dared not risk the liberty of Howard Spurlock the malefactor; because there were still some dregs in this cup of irony. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. “She must,” said Mr. Wild will hang me. I don’t suppose a girl can tell if a man is in love with her or not in love with her.
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