He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her, he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. Spurlock relaxed, suddenly, and sank deeply into his pillows. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. She was rash and ignorant, absolutely inexperienced. "Stay, dear Thames!—stay!" cried the little girl. But I'm not worrying about that.
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