Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. Spurlock stared at Ruth across the rim of his bowl. "He was thrown overboard, and perished at sea. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. “And, you know, you’re altering us all. Her eyes flashed. She made herself a private declaration of liberty.
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