They found Ruth reading to Spurlock, whose shoulders and head were propped by pillows. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. E. 9. For what indeed does she do? A simple song, no gesture, no acting, nothing. E. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases.
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