Mr. Spurlock lay with his head on his arms, asleep. It was she who had come out from the flat only a few minutes before. “I wonder if it is. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered. When you reach San Francisco, you can buy something more appropriate. “She has nothing to be afraid of,” he continued. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged.
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