CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. You’ll end up dead, that’s what. A young man turned to pay the cabman. But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience. His blood would be sweet with it. That’s the flat business situation.
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