One of the coolies held the paper lantern. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. Then he looked across at Mrs Sindlesham. " "You never told me what he is like," said Spurlock.
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