***** Spurlock possessed that extraordinary condition of the mind which is called New England conscience. “I doubted my luck, at least. Gold-handled, too. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. I’ve got too much work. Then before she could say a word to arrest him he was at her side. A florid-looking young woman rose up and accosted him eagerly. Spiders came out of their hiding places to commune in windows, industriously spinning their own designs over the stained glass. Let us part in peace. "Somebody ought to get hold of that young man," said Prudence, grimly, as she nodded in Spurlock's direction.
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