Spurlock snatched the check out of Ruth's hands and ran to the window. She sat down by the paperrack with a general feeling of resemblance to Vivie Warren, and looked through the Morning Post and Standard and Telegraph, and afterward the half-penny sheets. I didn’t know. She meditated profoundly through several enormous cold hours on all that had happened and all that she had done since the swirl of the suffrage movement had submerged her personal affairs. He was interesting and inconclusive, and the original papers to which he referred her discursive were at best only suggestive. The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. She cried out with the pain of it. . His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly.
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