He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly. Little by little the pool cleared, the whims vanished: so that both Ruth and the doctor, by the middle of the third week, began to accept Spurlock's actions as normal, whereas there was still a mote or two which declined to settle, still a kink in the gray matter that refused to straighten out. "Well, well; look who's here!" cried Spurlock. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. ‘Don’t even think of it,’ warned Gerald, in the voice generally reserved for his men.
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