Spurlock relaxed, suddenly, and sank deeply into his pillows. He had not noticed the girl particularly when she offered the sandwiches; but in this moment he found her beautiful. “She cannot be aware,” he continued, “that she is making herself conspicuous. ” “Yeah, I think she hates you, hon. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. It is a plain case of alcoholic stupor.
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