He had abandoned his oars, and the boat was drifting with the stream towards the enemy. Spurlock bent his head to the rail. The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. Sheppard now directed her steps. “You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. You do not know him. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. So Ruth returned to her room and sorted the books and magazines the doctor had loaned her, inspected the titles and searched for pictures.
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