Spurlock stared at Ruth across the rim of his bowl. “Do you hear!” she said “whatever you are, wherever you are! I will not be slave to the thought of any man, slave to the customs of any time. He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. ” Capes suddenly abandoned his attitude of meditative restraint. “Well, you have thought it over?” he said, sitting down beside her. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak.
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