" At luncheon, preoccupied in thought, Spurlock did not notice the pallor on Ruth's cheeks or the hunted look in her eyes. Analysis would come later, when the primitive conscience, satisfied, would cease to dominate his thought and action. He needed to laugh, but only she laughed as he chuckled weakly. And Blueskin, who, for a moment, had looked round distrustfully, concluding it was a feint, now laughed louder than ever. ‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff.
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