McClintock laughed as he gave the letter to Ruth. "You're not hurt I hope, Sir Rowland?" inquired this individual. He seemed to possess a penetration and cunning beyond his years—to hide a man's judgment under a boy's mask. ’ ‘You didn’t care. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. ” The suitcase loomed in her memory, making its presence felt once again. Or perhaps my father once. She uttered a little ejaculative note of joy and rushed to the bed.
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