” Lights went on inside the house on the upper level. "What is it you want of me?" "All you know about this young fellow Spurlock. "I've said it," rejoined Jonathan, peremptorily. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. The conceit of Howard Spurlock in imagining he knew what mental suffering was! But Enschede was right: Ruth must never know.
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