The poor child! What frightful things she must have seen on that island of hers! The noise of crashing glass caused a diversion; and Ruth turned gratefully toward the sound. "The poor things!" The manager laughed. Tight. 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. It was a work of no slight danger, for every instant a wall, or fragment of a building, came crashing to the ground. One or the other. For a moment O'Higgins had hoped that the ink applications would be recent. His course had been observed by the watchman, who directed Wild which way to take. The same old lines and verses, over and over, until there had come times when shrieking would have relieved her.
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