She met him by the dugout after the game. “Thank you—for coming,” he said. There was a gentle rustling of skirts. " Ruth repeated the word, not in the effect of a query, but ruminantly. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. "I am not, by Heaven!" replied Sheppard, firmly.
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