"Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. In a side-glance—for the floor was variously encumbered with overturned objects—he saw one of his paper weights, a coloured glass ball such as McClintock used in trade. But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. Stanley had never thought out.
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