Poor Ruth: for a father, a madman; for a husband—a thief! Spurlock rocked his body slightly. The signal of distress was evidently understood. The looming face was 71 over her own once again, and arms as strong as iron bars held her down. “It sounds too ridiculous. She crawled into her small bed, dizzy with the thoughts of him, of kissing him. “Ever yours, “ANNABEL.
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