The doctor reached over and laid his hand upon Spurlock's heart. 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. For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. There are way-stations—even terminals. They found Ruth reading to Spurlock, whose shoulders and head were propped by pillows. His perseverance was amply rewarded.
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