"Curse him!" muttered Abraham. Spurlock had found the typewriter, oiled and cleaned it, and began to practise on it in the night. "Fold it … under the pillow. I pity her from the bottom of my heart. ‘I live in Kent. “I’d like to dedicate tonight’s performance to the person that helped inspire me to complete my first major work. See what you have made of me. Things that you and the nuns would not think about for—’ She stopped, biting back the words “for a young girl”. His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop.
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