The walls are too high, and the windows too stoutly barricaded in this quarter, to admit such a supposition. To-night all this may seem hard and cruel. Sooner or later we’ll certainly do something to clean those prisons you told me about—limewash the underside of life. Wood hadn't struck me. Into this new world, vivid with colour, came Spurlock, receptively. Spurling, hastening to the rescue. Come back—you must come back.
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