She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. He said that his life was boring and stupid without her. For my blood you made it very hot indeed. That is very bad, certainly, and for this he was extremely sorry. D'ye hear. His face clouded with anger. He listened. Tears sprang to her eyes. Shotbolt nodded in token of acquiescence, and emitted an odd guttural sound. Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation.
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