At least, I frustrated her design in calling upon him this morning. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. “How do you feel?” she asked. When he faced Spurlock, the granite was cracked and rived; never had Spurlock seen such dumb agony in human eyes. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him.
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