" "I forgot to mention there's a trifling reward for his capture," cried Shotbolt, popping his head from under the cloth. A queer nut. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. 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. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. ” Mr. “You might have given me a chance, anyway. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. Spurling, as if struck by a sudden idea. “It was perhaps my fault.
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