Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. ‘Oh, Lord,’ muttered Gerald, going instantly to her aid. ’ Gerald hissed in a doubtful breath. ’ Gerald raised his brows. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise. Manning. And, yet, I don't know. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair.
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