Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. All this muddle to placate his conscience! "Here—quick!" McClintock thrust a cigar into Spurlock's hand. ‘Quick, Gérard. She was delivered home by 11:30pm. His inclinations prompted him most decidedly to take the vacant chair.
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