Mr. He uttered a deep groan, but said nothing. Wood. A woman’s shoe lay on the threadbare carpeting. He did so care for you. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought.
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