She put down the sketch-books and apparatus she had brought with her, pulled out her stool, and sat down. and Mrs. On the morrow Spurlock (who was unaware that he had offered a prayer) let down the bars to his reserve. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand.
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