’ There was a chuckle in his voice. It is no fault of your own that you are not at this moment standing there with your head blown off. Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. Kneebone, Mrs. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes.
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