‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. His lips were tight drawn. Little by little the pool cleared, the whims vanished: so that both Ruth and the doctor, by the middle of the third week, began to accept Spurlock's actions as normal, whereas there was still a mote or two which declined to settle, still a kink in the gray matter that refused to straighten out. She brought the unconscious man down. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. That for the men lay near the Lodge, with which it was connected by a dark passage.
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