Suffer me to precede you. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. The morning of Monday the 16th of November 1724 at length dawned. ‘I find you excessively rude, both of you,’ said the lady crossly. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared.
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