I know nothing about the girl, save what you have told me. They must be for your father. Explain to Sir John our feelings. Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. Spurlock lay with his head on his arms, asleep. Jolly hard life for a girl, getting a living. “If only her sister is half as pretty, no wonder that she has set the Parisians talking. ’ She smiled on the last words, adding, ‘Oh, I don’t blame you for trying. ’ The lodgekeeper had been in fine fettle by the time Major Alderley had produced his investigatory force at the gates. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs.
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