"Hush!" she said, putting her lean fingers to her lips. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. It was not human and yet very human, a high pitched wail of hunger that rattled her skull. His vicious abusiveness vanished. "Shoot him! shoot him! Put him out of hish mishery," cried the Jew. “I mean it. "What's the matter, lad, after all the wonderful fireworks at lunch?" Spurlock beheld McClintock standing beside him.
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