She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. ‘And I wouldn’t be no sort of a man if I’d heard what I heard, and gone off and left you. Little by little the pool cleared, the whims vanished: so that both Ruth and the doctor, by the middle of the third week, began to accept Spurlock's actions as normal, whereas there was still a mote or two which declined to settle, still a kink in the gray matter that refused to straighten out. Anna was having tea by herself when she entered. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. But you must leave us now, dear Winny, Jack and I have something to settle between ourselves. 'But I don't desire to spoil sport,—not I.
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