” “Not in the least,” she assured him. “Touch a hair on his head and you will insure that I will never make love to you again. “Punctual. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. She had had two days of employment-seeking now. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock.
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