" In the living room Spurlock's glance was constantly drawn toward Ruth; but in fear that she might sense something wrong, he walked over to the piano and struck a few chords. Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence. Manning came into her thoughts again, an unexpected, tall, dark, self-contained presence at the Fadden. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. Tell him the truth, Annabel. ’ Total bullshit, if you ask me.
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