I had left Paris. Come home alone. He saw the colossal selfishness of his act; but he could not beg off on the plea of abnormality. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. No good at all. " "But a man may love his wife!" cried Spurlock, utterly bewildered.
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