I suppose it is the mirrors and decorations. "Oh, I've read that!" Spurlock had heard distinctly enough all of this odd conversation; but until the spinster's reference to the family album, no phrase had been sufficient in strength of attraction to break the trend of his own unhappy thoughts. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it. I do not know if I will have to escape quickly once more.
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