Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. Spurlock relaxed, suddenly, and sank deeply into his pillows. “I think this ends the business,” he said, turning to his sister. "May come!—it will come!—it shall come!" cried the carpenter, shaking his hand menacingly at him. So, after the dinner was over, Spurlock took her home; and worked far into the night. She took the initiative and guided his fingers inside her and bore down.
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