Perhaps the Parisian atmosphere had affected him. ‘No mistaking you this time. ‘Only you made me lose my temper, and—’ ‘I made you do so? Pah!’ Gerald at last succeeded in ripping the handkerchief from her grasp, and swiftly held it to her neck, oblivious to her now bloodied fingers clawing at his hand. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. Lucy did not want to have to kill the mother, as she hated more than anything to kill women, no matter what their sins. A hand of iron fell upon the scowling young man’s shoulder. The terrific mental tension of the past few months —that had held his bodily nourishment in a kind of strangulation—became as a dream; and now his vitals responded rapidly to food and air. He's on the ragged edge.
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