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Spurling. I swore to hang you two years ago, but I deferred my purpose. ‘I am not a murderer. After fifteen years, to find that peculiarly Occidental attribute—college loyalty—still alive in his heart! A Western idea that had survived; an idea that was merely the flower of youthful enthusiasm! With his hands still in his sleeves, his chin down in speculation over this phenomenon, he continued his patrol. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. You would be alarmed of how sulphurous it is, how sickeningly sweet. ‘Then it is that you will have pity? Here we have come, we poor, for aid. Wood was scarcely seated before Mr. .
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