\" He piped up. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. If we don’t live it will think we are afraid of it. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Then his tiny bow mouth opened into an adoring smile. Presently he reached out and laid his hand upon Spurlock's motionless shoulders. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. Michelle had warned her of the girl, calling her “Bitchster”. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house.
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