"I'll have my cot in here," said Spurlock to Ruth, "where this table is. . He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. I won’t tolerate any foreign tongue in this house, least of all that confounded French. It is a lovely little appendage to the mother who smiles over it, and it does things quaintly like her, gestures with her very gestures. “By God! Ann Veronica,” he said, sighing deeply.
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