’ ‘Ain’t it? Want me to give you some time with her? Not that I think she’ll tell you anything. He has no imagination, no real generosity. The rest of his attire was nondescript. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. Have you thought of the monstrous lie you are adding to your theft?" "Lie?" said Spurlock, astounded.
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