“Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. Spurlock snatched the check out of Ruth's hands and ran to the window. Upon this grateful animal she lavished that affection which was subtly repelled by its lawful object. She wrapped a leg around him. Go to it. Not that there had ever been any hope of that. [Illustration: Distinctive Pictures Corporation.
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