He cannot. They were in different key, they had a different timbre. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp. So, after the dinner was over, Spurlock took her home; and worked far into the night. Such was the hubbub and tumult around him, that the carpenter could not hear its plunge into the flood. He nodded. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances.
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