Spurlock mused over the previous night. \" She said, bashful. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. . His commissions this day would not fill his metal pipe with one wad of tobacco. I’ve had a headache all day. She delighted in frustrating him. I’ll be waiting for you outside. S. But this was but a momentary gleam of personal application, and at this time she followed it up no further. This left Spurlock alone. I’m making a mess of my life— unless you come in and take it. When she reflected that Mr. " CHAPTER XI. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly.
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