You’d think he wanted to meet the wretch again. She would just walk out of the house and go. "Is it poison?" she asked. CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair.
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