Ruth loved him. She could not explain in words why they disappointed her or that she was disappointed. \"Oh, that's okay, I do better if I study alone. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. The unexpected twist—his disclosure to McClintock—had given Spurlock but temporary relief. I wouldn’t even have to use very much gasoline. Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested.
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