"Thank you, sir," said Spurlock, holding out his hand. God is a jealous God, and He turned upon me relentlessly. The pistol was his own, it is true, but it was one which was taken from him when he forced his way in upon me before. He sounds to me like a soldier of fortune. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion.
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