It was you, of course, whom he wanted. Good looks, with a melancholy cast, always drew sentimental females. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. " "And why should you care whether she forgave you or not?" Spurlock jumped to his feet, the look of the damned upon his face. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. “But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. I will tell you our plans on the way to the station. Her eye met his four inches away, and his was glaring, immense, and full of resolution, a stupendous monster of an eye. “Why not?” “Because you are mine.
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