Through it all Spurlock maintained a gaiety which deceived them completely. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. The Dawn Pearl. “I’d chuck this lark right off if I were you, Vee,” he said. He sent a speculative glance at the immobile yellow face. Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended.
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