Spurlock felt very well pleased with himself. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. She could not say to Michelle that the Vorsack house had more than just a little tinge of “bad”. Guided by the glare of the forge, which threw a stream of ruddy light across the road, Jack soon found the place of which he was in search. “Of course,” she said diffidently, “this is a boarding-house, although we never take in promiscuous travellers. “Okay. If you could see how it gives them souls, women who have taken things for granted, who have given themselves up altogether to pettiness and vanity. Why, is the question I would like answered.
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