‘You are dead, you,’ he yelled back, leaping into the seat of the final pew. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. “But frankly, I mean to fight this through if I possibly can. From one window the beach was always visible; from another, the stores. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. 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.
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