Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. “This is a charming place, and I have enjoyed the rest. Eh? Banging against the old rollers—that'll put some life into us both. His eyes never left her face. I have sinned deeply; but I have been sorely tried. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic.
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