He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. ‘Very well,’ he said, lowering his own weapon. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. You hurt the child. “And I have dragged you all over here for nothing,” she murmured. Waving a white flag, naturally. How could she tell him what indeed already began to puzzle herself, why she had borrowed that money at all? The plain fact was that she had grabbed a bait.
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