She paused for a moment. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. You disgust me. . ” “Of course,” his friend answered. In the end, resolution triumphed, as it was sure to do, over the weaker emotions, and he laughed at his fears.
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