He filled his
pipe slowly. “The fool I have been!” he cried; and now
speech was coming to him. His reputation was slightly tainted by his
marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired
beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. The door was closed—
locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but
they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. “I saw you in a sort of sloping, slippery place, holding on by your
hands and slipping. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. “I
suppose there’s no way of getting a decent income—independently.
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