” “It’s all the same,” said Miss Miniver. There was something very wrong. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. She did not resist him, she could not. Little by little the pool cleared, the whims vanished: so that both Ruth and the doctor, by the middle of the third week, began to accept Spurlock's actions as normal, whereas there was still a mote or two which declined to settle, still a kink in the gray matter that refused to straighten out. He did not come out of his chloroform coma and sailed weakly to his death. Half the rooms empty. Her personal maidservant, the first she had ever had in her life, was joyful for her.
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