" CHAPTER XX To Spurlock it seemed as if a great iron door had swung in behind him, shutting out the old world. Irregularly, in a quite inglorious and unromantic way, you know, I am a vicious man. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. Not a bad man as men go, but he would sell whisky and gin. ” “Please go then, Mr. "After all, he is my father, Hoddy; and I cursed him. “Thanks to you.
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