” She glanced out of the window, and the distant trees were a froth of hard spring green and almond blossom. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. ” “Not exactly,” he answered nervously. He scratched his upper lip reflectively. ***** From the comatose state, Spurlock passed into that of the babbling fever; but that guarding instinct which is called subconsciousness held a stout leash on his secret. Goodbye.
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