Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. ” He leaned to kiss her 131 and she returned his kiss, which she drew out, savored, and tried to memorize. " So saying, he advanced towards the window, threw open the sash, and called out in the voice of Thames Darrell, "Who's there?" He was answered by a shot from a pistol. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman. There was the world besides, looming darker and larger. I won’t even ask. “There’s morbid beauty,” said Ann Veronica. All that is jolly and as it should be.
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