She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. "I don't see how I can improve it. She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. Poor Ruth: for a father, a madman; for a husband—a thief! Spurlock rocked his body slightly. "And now, mark me. That’s probably true. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers. “I wondered.
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