He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. Spurlock's vision was oddly of the past. Voilà tout. What is done cannot be undone. She was extremely showily dressed, and her large hooped petticoat gave additional effect to her lofty stature. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite—something quite insignificant. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove.
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