" The doctor hesitated, puffing his tobacco hastily. The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture. It was of no use, she let him do it as she could not be strangled. It was wonderful. His smile faded. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. They have rescued the child. And by degrees, perhaps, that maiden distrust of yours that makes you shrink from my kisses, will vanish. Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance.
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