Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs. I would have liked to know. The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold. " CHAPTER VI. His patient was distinctly of a different order of life. The man is a stranger to me. ‘No, I don’t see much future in pursuing her down this passage. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. .
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