She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. . "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. He is steeped in the conventions. Water sprung from the corners of the school roof, turning it into a gigantic fountain. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird.
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