‘Go on up to the boy, my dear. "I leave this bowl for you," he cried, returning it to the landlord untasted. When he faced Spurlock, the granite was cracked and rived; never had Spurlock seen such dumb agony in human eyes. “Thank you,” he said, “for letting me back. ’ He bowed. I—I hurt myself. His attitude was as different from Gianfrancesco’s as night was from day.
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