He made a quick movement towards her, but she did not flinch. "I knew him at once. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. It was the beginning and the end of the transaction. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words.
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