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CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. “I was sick of the make-believe. “Come right in,” he hissed under his breath, with the true conspirator’s note, closed the door very softly and pointed, “Through there!” By the meagre light of a gas lamp she perceived a cobbled yard with four large furniture vans standing with horses and lamps alight. ” “To a friend?” “To lodgings—alone. You can’t! I tell you frankly you may break off your engagement to me—I shall hold myself still engaged to you, yours just the same. Spiders came out of their hiding places to commune in windows, industriously spinning their own designs over the stained glass. Stow it in the saddle, for I will take it with me.
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