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She was on the rim of civilization, entering, as Spurlock was on the rim, preparing to make his exit. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. Spurlock slept on. ” With a murmured word of excuse she glided away, and Courtlaw, who had come with a mission which seemed to him to be one of life or death, was left to listen to the latest art jargon from Chelsea. This gloom was impossible. Mrs. " "Faithful fellow!" murmured Jack.
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