"Yes!" interrupted Spurlock, savagely. Stanley poured wine. A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached. ’ She stopped, her lips tightening. He pushed her small hand into his jeans. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation.
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