“I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally. Spurlock looked up. . Besides," she added, blushing yet more deeply, "it isn't a proper one to talk upon. “Feel better. The huge, newly remodeled brick house was crammed full of people reeking of beer, vodka, and tequila. I will make her my Grail, and some day, perhaps, if God wills, she shall become my wife!’” He looked very hard before him as he said this, and his voice was full of deep feeling. 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. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat.
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