Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness. Spurlock stared at Ruth across the rim of his bowl. I wanted to, that day in the Zoo. “I must live, you know. "I owe you nothing," he repeated, dully. “I’m sorry, ma’am, to seem the cause of any disturbance, but this,” he pointed to Anna, “is my wife.
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