The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. He subjected me there to great annoyance by claiming me as his wife. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time. For a space he rode the whirligig. Maggot, whose nerves were more firmly strung, she contented herself with waving her hand affectionately to her lover, and encouraging him by her gestures.
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