But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. “I was surprised, I admit,” he said. ” She turned her face to the fire, gripped her hands upon her elbows, and drew her thin shoulders together in a shrug. From the Sha-mien to the yacht, Spurlock had uttered no word; though, even in the semi-darkness, no gesture or word of Ruth's escaped him. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road.
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