She put back her hood in a determined way. Her faculties seemed for a moment numbed. She sat in deep thought for a moment or two, and then nodding briskly, dipped the pen in the ink again and began to write. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. I am so amazed to see you here. The whole of that relationship persisted in remaining obscure. No, no! Not now!" Ruth turned abruptly and walked toward the bungalow, mounted the veranda steps, and vanished within.
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