. Spurling's sooty imp, Caliban. ” She replied. He did not know—and probably never would unless she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into slatternly ways in this latitude. She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come.
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