Spurlock knew that somewhere along the way he would write a story worth while. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. ’ Her hand shook as he took it in his, and she uttered involuntarily, ‘Oh, it was so horrible! They came like animals, with long knives that they use to cut grass, and heavy clubs. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. “Where were you?” He inquired, rubbing her shoulders. As I hope for mercy, I speak the truth!— let him deny it if he can. " Her attitude now entirely sisterly, he ceased to be afraid of her; there was never anything in her eyes (so far as he could see) but friendly interest in all he said or did. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him.
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