" Half an hour later she laid aside the book. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. “Why, among other things, did I put my knuckles in his neck—deliberately to hurt him?” She tried to sound the humorous note. But for him she might have been alive and happy. The whole place had come to life, the magic seeped out of the walls. “Have some more port wine, sir?” “It’s a very sound wine,” said Mr.
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