"One of us has got to die," he panted. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. Who could say that the two weren't in collusion? When a chap like Spurlock jumped the traces, cherchez la femme, every time. " "Ah," said Spurlock; "that kind of a man. She had never experienced anything so disagreeable in her life as the sense of being held helplessly off her feet.
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