‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. Lucy clutched the pencil in defeat. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. "But your dreadful projects will recoil on your own head. Ruth and Spurlock separated, the one embarrassed, the other utterly dumfounded. When he said, “Let’s go and see the wart-hog,” she thought no one ever had had so quick a flow of good ideas as he; and when he explained that sugar and not buns was the talisman of popularity among the animals, she marvelled at his practical omniscience. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt.
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