“Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. You get the idea. Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream. Awkwardly, he closed his eyes and fumbled for a kiss. ‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie. Miss Garvice repeated again, and almost in the same words she used at every discussion, her contribution to the great question. It was obviously pitched well, hitting her head at a good thirtyfive miles per hour. What is it you’re after? Money, I suppose. I'm glad he's come to see me.
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