With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. " "Arm yourself with that ruffian's weapons," replied Jack, "and let us search for her. This is my friend, Mr. " At luncheon, preoccupied in thought, Spurlock did not notice the pallor on Ruth's cheeks or the hunted look in her eyes. ‘That is what she wants, is it?’ ‘Do you blame her?’ he said stiffly. I can bear anything but suspense.
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