She would always be waiting upon this boy, he mused. Spurlock stared at Ruth across the rim of his bowl. Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. She was perhaps three-and-twenty, and very pink and healthy-looking, showing a great deal of white and rounded neck above her business-like but altogether feminine blouse, and a good deal of plump, gesticulating forearm out of her short sleeve. The owner was at the door unhooking a few articles of wearing apparel which he had exposed outside for sale. Wood!" "Leave go!" thundered Blueskin—"leave go—you'd better!"—and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched for his knife.
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