CHAPTER VII The astonishing collapse of Spurlock created a tableau of short duration. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. All about her, hither and yon, lay the enticing Unknown. She looked and felt like a fairy princess. "That'll teach you to keep a civil tongue in your head for the future," observed Thames, as he helped Jack to his feet. Against the sinister, the threatening, monstrous inhumanity of the limitless city, there was nothing now but this supreme, ugly fact of a pursuit— the pursuit of the undesired, persistent male. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. It's public opinion. “Shut up, you little faggot. Seems you were right about Valade. 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.
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