“I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. From the opposite corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them. Deny me, if you please. She was emerging from the primordial as Spurlock was declining toward it. The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience.
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