Mr. Spurlock bent his head to his knees. Then he had gone away. He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. ’ The sergeant’s air became positively avuncular. “How has the world taken it?” he asked. “Stop! Don’t put your face there.
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