" "Mine is Howard Spurlock. I shall barely be in time for the theatre. " He passed it over; and Ruth read: To be opened in case of my death and the letter inside forwarded to the address thereon. She has no proof—yet. ‘I can manage now. Listen. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. That's well. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. Wood.
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