Poor Ruth: for a father, a madman; for a husband—a thief! Spurlock rocked his body slightly. “With your permission I should like to search the remainder of your rooms. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. ‘And she’s—’ She broke off, a sudden light in her eyes. “Look at our clothes,” she exclaimed, “and besides, the funny little proprietor has gone down himself to help it along. The hurricane had now reached its climax. I told him the truth.
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