His breath grew shallower as he approached the room, conscious of the loudness of his hallway-reverberated footfalls. He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me. Spurlock stepped into the room. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap.
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