" "Thank'ee, Sir," grinned Sheppard. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. John, he was between me and the door. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. She reached for the door handle. The nuns wore their habit, and said all their offices, and went about their tasks unobtrusively, relieving the poor and needy and tending the sick. All emotions laid hold of him, but none could he stay long enough to analyze it. Here was the same Ruth who had left him a few minutes since: the same outwardly; and yet…! On the ninth day Spurlock was up and about; that is, he was strong enough to walk alone, from the companion to his chair, to lean upon the rail when the chair grew irksome, to join Ruth and his employer at lunch and dinner: strong enough to argue about books, music, paintings. ‘There is no question of a dispute. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. She was the first to hear another car approaching from the street, an odd occurrence in an elementary school lot that had been abandoned for the weekend. The mere fact that he was there in the train alongside her, helping her, sitting opposite to her in the dining-car, presently sleeping on a seat within a yard of her, made her heart sing until she was afraid their fellow passengers would hear it. From all angles he was at a disadvantage—in weight, skill, endurance.
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