"Something worse, I fear," Wood replied. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. “Idiots!” she said, when she heard this pandemonium, and with particular reference to this young lady with the throaty contralto next door. Here was the same Ruth who had left him a few minutes since: the same outwardly; and yet…! On the ninth day Spurlock was up and about; that is, he was strong enough to walk alone, from the companion to his chair, to lean upon the rail when the chair grew irksome, to join Ruth and his employer at lunch and dinner: strong enough to argue about books, music, paintings. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. There was a hint of tears in her voice. ‘Don’t dare call her that to my face. "Take him to the bilbowes.
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