He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. He seemed happy with her, finding her proper and seemly. “It is intolerable that you should be followed about by such a creature. She opened the door with a neon colored key. The point is, Spurlock was coming along: queerly, by his own imagination. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. Lucy snatched it up and put it in her pack.
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