"You read it, Ruth. In this hour its colossal selfishness never occurred to him. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir. Another picture slid across her vision. Another horseman followed quickly at the heels of the first; but just as he passed the spot where Jack stood, his steed missed its footing, and fell. “Oh, I can’t thank you. I've bumped into so much of the underside that I can't see clean any more. A remittance man. He has nothing to fall back upon, no substitute; but a woman always has the mother love.
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