Horrible doubts assailed her. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream. ” “I’m not surprised at it. I'll lay my life he's gone. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness.
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