But he did not follow on with the thought. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. What he wanted desperately was to be alone. "I'll have my cot in here," said Spurlock to Ruth, "where this table is. Kneebone!" "That you would not accept him were he to offer—" "Be silent, Sir. He divorced her. "I'll tell you why," he said. He must not in any way call their attention to it. I wish very much that you had written before leaving Paris.
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