” He glared at Martin. I have been thinking these things over lately, and it seems to me that marriage for a girl is just the supremest thing in life. But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. She rested her head upon his shoulder. It was partly to pay a grudge he had against father. Her husband was prouder of her every day.
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