" Spurlock wondered if something hadn't suddenly gone awry in his head. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. ’ She bit her lip and thought deeply. Your lamented mother, whose loss I shall ever deplore, perceived my passion and encouraged it. And that would spoil it. They must have a key. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again.
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