When he faced Spurlock, the granite was cracked and rived; never had Spurlock seen such dumb agony in human eyes. “Yes. All your faults are just jolly modelling to make you real and solid. A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces. Oh, John. Spurlock sat limply, his arms hanging. —I'll give him the edication of a prig,—teach him the use of his forks betimes,—and make him, in the end, as clever a cracksman as his father. For all that she was of exceptional intellectual enterprise, she had never yet considered these things with unaverted eyes.
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