He had been for months without music of the character he loved—and he dared not play any of it! McClintock, after the music began, left the piano and sat in a corner just beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp. How she needed him! Next moment, she had wrenched open the door, and was confronting her guard. "The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife. She thrashed and screamed as he wrestled her back towards the bed. I'll lay my life he's gone. There came to Spurlock the recurrence of the grim resolution of what he had set out to do: that comradeship was all he might ever give this exquisite creature; for she was exquisite, and in a way she dominated this picture of sea and sky and sail. You will never be able to draw.
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