Anna looked at her curiously, and with sinking heart. Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble. She was quite tired of the stream of visitors and heard with relief the words of her newfound great-aunt, addressed to her son’s butler. "You'd have hit it off better if you'd called her The Sow. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village.
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