She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city at night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!' … It kind of terrifies me," said Ruth, looking up, first at the face of her husband, then at McClintock's. "One of us has got to die," he panted. "Here I am, Captain," cried a voice from without. Someone was coming out of the house. All this muddle to placate his conscience! "Here—quick!" McClintock thrust a cigar into Spurlock's hand. She ran away after she had divined that Gianfrancesco had remarried.
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