His shirt also was unbuttoned, and disclosed a neck like that of an ox, and a chest which might have served as a model for a Hercules. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. Here one might live the life of golden days. Occasionally he relit his pipe. I am tired, and I want to be alone.
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