—I'll give him the edication of a prig,—teach him the use of his forks betimes,—and make him, in the end, as clever a cracksman as his father. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. She was sore and overstrung, and it was intolerable to her that he should stand within three yards of her unsuspectingly, with an incalculably vast power over her happiness. Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. The effects of the heroin wore off slowly. “No! No no no no no no no!” She ran towards them, her arms outstretched, but he blocked her. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion.
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