“Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. His quiet, kindly smile implied his serene disbelief in any confessible thing. “Will you come this way,” she said, “into the drawing-room? There is no one there just now. ’ The snaking suspicion rolled through his mind again. The father, granite; the daughter, fire: Spurlock saw the one and heard the other, his amazement indescribable.
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