Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. Spurling attended him as his nurse, and, under her care, he speedily revived. The latch came with a weak click. Would you tell her … now?" his eyes flaming with mockery. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. ” “Upon my word,” he declared, “you are right.
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