Never sent for the shirt. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. " Spurlock laughed. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. She had never been able to discover where her father had hidden his shaving mirror. “In it lies the secret poison he used to turn you into an Oracle. Then he rallied, smiling a little. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind. “Miserable bounder,” he murmured.
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