His bodily suffering, however, was nothing compared with his mental anguish. Many’s the bullets I’ve dug out of fellows in my time. Around him were all the evidences of plenty. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. Nigel Ennison was he. I am afraid because I love you, so that the mere thought of failure hurts. I’ve had the rarest luck and fallen on my feet.
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