and those two beggars laughing as they breasted death! Girl, you've gone and done it!" He leaned down and caught her by the hand, and then raced with her to the bungalow. "Quilt Arnold, is that you?" "It is, Sir," sputtered the janizary. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. She formed a habit which embarrassed Spurlock greatly, but at first he dared not complain. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended.
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