“What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. . ’ Her gaze followed the butler, who was moving towards the door. . " IV. This astute personage was somewhat under the middle size, but fairly proportioned, inclining rather to strength than symmetry, and abounding more in muscle than in flesh. Presently he reached out and laid his hand upon Spurlock's motionless shoulders. I don’t mind it. And now she comprehended that the man (she had never known him by any name) knew she had surprised the look and had not resented it.
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