” Brendon reappeared, followed by a tall thin man with a stubbly brown moustache and restless grey eyes. But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. “You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. ‘Sir?’ Hilary threw a brief glance at Trodger, and quickly returned his intent gaze to the Frenchman, who had halted once more, and stood as if thinking deeply. ‘I knew you would be furious. But don't suppose, Madam, that anything I say has reference to you.
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