Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. What the devil is the matter, Dunster?” “I beg your pardon, sir,” the man answered, “there is a lady here to see you. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness. “Hi Lucy. I worshipped women long before I found any woman I might ever hope to worship.
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