"Mrs. ’ ‘True enough,’ nodded Martha sadly. "Let it pass. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. She took a deep breath. “Lots of ‘em!” Capes chuckled. To think of him as loving her would make all that different. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. G'night, kids. But it was of no avail.
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