Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. I am not afraid that you may try to make love to me. Analysis would come later, when the primitive conscience, satisfied, would cease to dominate his thought and action. Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance. It isn’t law, nor custom, nor masculine violence settled that. And now she had sent Jack away. On the second day out he was helped to a steamer-chair on deck; on the third day, his arm across Ruth's shoulder, he walked from his chair to the foremast and back. She deserves what has befallen her.
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