The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. ” “But don’t you see how I must stand to you? Don’t you see how it bars us from being lovers—You can’t—at first. A nine days’ wonder is soon forgotten. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes.
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