But if his frame was immature, his looks were not so. Spurlock advanced, the censer swung high. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. Earles answered, glibly. She wondered occasionally why his mind needed so much distraction. I have gone without dinner for three nights, and—come in. Then she came a few steps to meet him. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese.
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