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His commissions this day would not fill his metal pipe with one wad of tobacco. If the boy did not love the girl, why the devil had he dragged her into this marriage? Spurlock was a bit shaky bodily, but his brain was functioning clearly; and, it might be added, swiftly—as the brain always acts when confronted by a perplexing riddle. ‘Sapristi,’ he shouted angrily. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy.

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