“I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. ‘Been led up the garden path by that confounded rapscallion. “Okay, I guess. What was the matter with Spurlock that was to keep him in bed three or four weeks? He would dig that out of the hotel manager. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night.
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