But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. She had even confided to him how lonely it was in the island. " "I should like to hear all particulars of the affair," said Jackson, "if it wouldn't be troubling you too much. “Just like old times,” she thought sardonically. There's my thumb upon it. Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book. He stood before her. She must kill this man, or kill herself.
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