O'Higgins eyed it thoughtfully. Spurling stood her negro attendant, Caliban; a hideous, misshapen, malicious monster, with broad hunched shoulders, a flat nose, and ears like those of a wild beast, a head too large for his body, and a body too long for his legs. We were two people with a craving. She felt her heartbeat accelerate until it was pounding her chest. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. "I'm tired of the life I'm leading. “I can tell you are thinking about it. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. “Will he die?” she asked.
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