She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. Once she reached the bamboo curtain, clutched at it and tore it down as his arms went around her waist. Through it all Spurlock maintained a gaiety which deceived them completely. It was his mother, and as he gazed on her pallid features and motionless frame, Jack's heart severely smote him. But Enschede took them as they came, without question.
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