His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. ‘You see, it is that my papa, he is without sympathy,’ said the lady sadly. " The walls appeared to rock; bulging shadows reached out; the candle flames became mocking eyes; and the blood drummed thunderously in Spurlock's ears.
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