Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. For just as though a vague likeness is sometimes borne swiftly in upon one, so a vague dissimilarity between the face on the poster and the heroine of his thoughts had slowly crept into his consciousness. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. ’ ‘And I love the way you call me imbecile,’ finished Gerald. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. Try and let him never regret it. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free.
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