C below. My wife doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand now. They found Ruth reading to Spurlock, whose shoulders and head were propped by pillows. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. He had “put his foot down,” and said she must not go. You have not considered the advantages. Tombs were desecrated, beautiful statues toppled, and the colorful shops that she had been enchanted by along the canal had been closed or burned. Oh God! my limbs fail me. She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers. “Let me see,” he said. From the white beach the palms ran in serried rows quarter of a mile inland, then began a jungle of bamboo, gum-tree, sandalwood, plantain, huge fern, and choking grasses. One of those hanging moments ensued— hypnotic. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
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