” He played it cool, but he had seen it in her face. Trust you. ” He paused, with his eyes studying her gravely. “Our ways happened to lie together. They found Ruth reading to Spurlock, whose shoulders and head were propped by pillows. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. Then she burst into a peal of laughter. Ovarian cancer.
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