From then on he was Ruth's dog. " "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. “And what on earth,” he said, “do you think the world is made of? Why do you think I have been doing things for you? The abstract pleasure of goodness? Are you one of the members of that great white sisterhood that takes and does not give? The good accepting woman! Do you really suppose a girl is entitled to live at free quarters on any man she meets without giving any return?” “I thought,” said Ann Veronica, “you were my friend. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. ’ She edged sideways a little more, her eyes on the pistol in his hand. He leaned forward to better drink her in. The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her. “Why?” “I still love you.
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