CHAPTER IX. Spurlock bent his head to the rail. " "Follow me, then," cried Thames, drawing his sword, and springing through the window. ’ There was a pause. For a few days he was able to relegate his conscience to the background. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things.
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