" "What's that?" "Think it over," said McClintock, grimly. Spurlock bent his head to his knees. A note of belligerency had crept into his tone. “My God!” he said at last, with tremendous feeling, and then again, “My God!” Now that this thing was said her mind was clear and calm. Lucy inhaled deeply. “I wish they did,” he said, “but they don’t. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. We were only—les autres.
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