We'll have some fun down there at my place, Spurlock; but we'll probably bore your wife to death. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. He seemed to be about to move toward her. Oh, what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue. She tried to think what she should do in this eventuality or that.
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