CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. Nevertheless, she could not prevent a rising excitement as the dawn of the new life drew near to her—a thrilling of the nerves, a secret and delicious exaltation above the common circumstances of existence. Her husband was prouder of her every day. She never knew what became of her farmer after that. She washed her face twice after making smudgy eyeshadow and lipstick errors. Coarse as were the ruffian's notions of feminine beauty, he could not be insensible to the surpassing loveliness of the fair creature, who had thus solicited his attention.
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