"We shall see. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. The remainder of dinner was surreal and stilted. But Darrell averted his head. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect. “In private. He couldn't be in better hands than those in which he has placed himself. The chair had extension arms over which a man might comfortably dangle his legs. Spurlock stared at Ruth across the rim of his bowl. It was wrenched away from Melusine’s clutching hands.
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