Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. So long as she could remember, her father had never permitted her to sit at the table unless she came fully dressed. She had been working upon a ribbon of microtome sections of the developing salamander, and he came to see what she had made of them. She held out her arms to him and smiled. Celestial Uncles! Spurlock chuckled, and a bit of chestnut, going down the wrong way, set him to coughing violently.
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