Spurlock was by nature orderly, despite his literary activities. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. Miss Stanley reflected on this proposal for a moment. And my wife won’t live with me for reasons that I think most women would consider sound. In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips. Jonathan had to feel his way. Anything. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp.
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