On the morrow Spurlock (who was unaware that he had offered a prayer) let down the bars to his reserve. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out. I've some other things inside, Sir, which you might wish to buy,—some pistols. There's good stuff in him, if one could find the way to dig it out. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. His literary instincts were reviving.
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