. ” He passed his hand wearily over his forehead. There was something very wrong. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. A victim of one of those mental typhoons that scatter irretrievably the barriers of instinct and breeding; and he had gone on the rocks all in a moment. " Hastening to the Six Bells, Jack ordered some refreshment, and engaged a private room, where he remained till the afternoon absorbed in grief. Spurlock had better stick to the bungalow.
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