The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. The point is, Spurlock was coming along: queerly, by his own imagination. His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief. Opposite, his pupil stood with bowed head and clasped hands.
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