"What's the matter, lad, after all the wonderful fireworks at lunch?" Spurlock beheld McClintock standing beside him. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. “Before this there was a sort of restraint—a make-believe. His brute strength surged through her veins, she could feel his energy in her heart, his life force stolen like candy from a baby. Paul’s, were rich and wonderful with the soft sunshine of London, the softest, the finest grained, the most penetrating and least emphatic sunshine in the world.
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