There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. With this she now entered. She listened, her suspicions confirmed. But he reckoned without his host. He had been reading Belfort Bax, and declared himself a convert. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. Have you suffered?" "Dear God!… every hour since!" "The Spurlock conscience.
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