She fought the inclination for a while, then surrendered. “Want to see the upstairs?” “Sure. "Begone! or I fire!" he cried. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. And when, at length, it was struck, he wanted energy to pursue his advantages. What had happened to it? She had broken it, certainly. But Spurlock was ever on guard, even when she fussed over his hair.
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