"Where am I?" asked Spurlock. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. I pledged my thumb that, dead or alive, I'd pay the wager if I lost; and I should like to be as good as my word. That blow made me a thief. The chair had extension arms over which a man might comfortably dangle his legs. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion.
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