" The walls appeared to rock; bulging shadows reached out; the candle flames became mocking eyes; and the blood drummed thunderously in Spurlock's ears. I am grateful, indeed I am. She repeated this breathlessly. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. "We shall have the whole village upon us while you're striking the jigger. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. "I'd rather you went over the last four chapters, which I haven't polished yet. They're only just gone, mercy on us! what a clatter," she added, as the knocking was repeated more violently than before. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment.
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