Spurlock snatched the check out of Ruth's hands and ran to the window. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. But they did not know how good she was, how perfect she was. "When I am dead you will learn it. How did you get your luggage out of the house? Wasn’t it—wasn’t it rather in some respects—rather a lark? It’s one of my regrets for my lost youth. She vanished from the laboratory for a week, a week of oddly interesting days.
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