“It is part of the irony of life,” he said. " "Then you are taking me on?" Spurlock's eyes grew soft like those of a dog that, expecting the whip, saw only the kindly hand. The change will come to-day. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. She opened her eyes. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. " And, once more enveloping himself in darkness, he pursued his course. It’s all outside the world of your experience. ‘You are the one that I have met in London. ” “Not exactly,” he answered nervously. He was certain that those lips of hers had never known the natural and pardonable simper of youth.
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