“I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. If he was asleep, then she much regretted that she must wake him up. The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms. That was an admission all right. How to hold her, how to keep her at his side; this was the problem with which he struggled. Superimposed was the agitating thought of what would follow the death of this unwelcome guest: confusion, poking authorities, British and American red tape. “Am I hurting you?” She asked. "Those boys out there think this is some new religious rite and that you are skinning the dog alive to eat him!" The shock of this information loosened Spurlock's grip on the dog, who bolted out of the kitchen and out of the house, maintaining his mile-a-minute gait until he reached the jungle muck, where he proceeded to neutralize the poison with which he had been lathered by rolling in the muck. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go.
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