Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. He seemed to be hesitating between two courses of action. " Then he looked at Ruth. He made Hong-Kong at dusk: wet, hungry, and a bit groggy for the want of sleep; but he was in no wise discouraged. “Ann Veronica,” he said, “I tell you this is love. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. ‘Jacques! This—this bête he attacks me, and you stand there and you do nothing.
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