McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. I stubbornly insisted that we wait, and you woke up. “You will go and see her,” he begged. Spurlock knew exactly what he was doing, however: speculative mischief, to see how she would act. I loved her and made love to her, and I don’t think she quite loved me back in the same way. Teacher.
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