The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. She flailed against the doctor’s grip but after what seemed an eternity of kicking and flailing, amazingly, he had not seemed weakened in the slightest by her resistance. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. "What's the matter, lad, after all the wonderful fireworks at lunch?" Spurlock beheld McClintock standing beside him. Her features were meagre, and ghastly white, and had the fixed and horrible stamp of insanity.
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