The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. '—'It's not to be thought of,' says I, thumping the table till every glass on it jingled; 'and I know a way as'll prevent it. As in all things, so his thoughts came to him deliberately.
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