’ He gave the gaping Pottiswick a shove, passing him on to his junior, who was waiting patiently by the kitchen door. Little by little the pool cleared, the whims vanished: so that both Ruth and the doctor, by the middle of the third week, began to accept Spurlock's actions as normal, whereas there was still a mote or two which declined to settle, still a kink in the gray matter that refused to straighten out. They would be partners only in loneliness. “Look here, Ann Veronica,” he began. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent. I'm not noble; so my honourable ancestors will not turn over in their graves.
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