Yet her hands dropped, and she sighed deeply. 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. He was, in fact, quite eager to go on living. It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now. Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. Moments are ages now. ‘Parbleu, but what a person you make me! One who spies. It was a unique experience for her to wash him. She fell asleep instantaneously, fatigued from weeks of exhaustion. .
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