She longed to enjoy human food as he did. Why? Because Howard Spurlock the author dared not risk the liberty of Howard Spurlock the malefactor; because there were still some dregs in this cup of irony. “My wife refused absolutely to have anything more to do with me. “Oh, you can act!” she cried. But at the same time, I must say plainly that I think your presence here just now would be a great misfortune. “Why?” he asked, suavely. Yet she held her tongue. After a day or so, perhaps, we will go on one or two little excursions and see how good your head is—a mild scramble or so; and then up to a hut on a pass just here, and out upon the Blumlis-alp glacier that spreads out so and so. John finally wrested her away from the company of his parents, insisting that he wanted to take a walk in the park before it was completely dark.
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